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POEMS 


BY 


HARRIET   McEWEN   KIMBALL 


Complete  3£tiition 


NEW  YORK 

ANSON    D.    F.   RANDOLPH   AND    CO. 

38  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET 

1889 


Copyright,  i88g, 
BY  HARRIET  MC£WEN  KIMBALL. 


©mbmsttg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS. 


PRELUDE ix 


flart  I. 

As  Thou  Wilt 1 

The  Guest 2 

The  Unspoken  Prayer 4 

Praying  in  Spirit        5 

All  's  Well 7 

"  The  Blessed  Company  of  all  Faithful  People  "...  8 

Security 12 

My  Knowledge 14 

Holy  Mysteries 16 

The  Christian  Year   .     .    . 18 

Jesus,  my  Refuge       ........ 25 

The  House  of  God .    .    *    •     •  27 

The  Vision  in  the  Chalice       .-.-.- 34 

The  Divine  Purpose       .37 

"  Jesus,  the  Ladder  of  my  Faith  " 39 

"  The  Communion  of  Saints  " 41 

Hymn  for  the  Holy  Communion 47 

The  Communion  of  the  Sick       48 

Interrupted  Zeal '-  -.- 50 

A  Hymn  of  Adoration 53 


M191987 


iv  CONTENTS. 

Page 

"  Give  us  this  Day  our  Daily  Bread  " 55 

"Anima  Christi  " 57 

His  Rest 58 

Advent  Song  of  the  Faithful 62 

The  Annunciation 64 

CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND  CAROLS. 

The  Nativity 69 

"  Christ  is  born  of  Blessed  Mary  " 75 

"  King,  Sweet  Bells  of  Christendom  " 77 

"  Gloria  in  Excelsis  " 80 

"  While  all  around  the  Happy  Earth  " 82 

"  The  Sweetest  Hymn  that  ever  was  sung  *,'...  84 

Mary  Mother       86 

"  Ended  the  Vigil  of  Ages  " 87 

"  Peace  and  Good-will,  Good-will  and  Peace  "...  90 

The  Blessed  Babe 93 

A  Christmas  Meditation 96 

LENT  AND  EASTER. 

HYMNS  FOR  LENT:  — 

I.     "  From  feasts  that  perish  turned  aside  "   .     .     .  101 

II.     "  In  the  lone  desert  of  my  own  despair  "...  102 
HYMNS  FOR  GOOD  FRIDAY:  — 

I.     "  Oh  !  see  Him  where  he  hangs  " 103 

II.     "  O  sad,  long-suffering  Face  " 104 

Easter-even  Violets 106 

Easter  Day 108 

EASTER  CAROLS: — 

I.     "  Christ  is  risen !     Christ  is  risen !"     .     .     .     .  110 

II.     "  With  flowers  we  crown  His  altar  fair  "  .     .     .  Ill 

The  Resurrection 113 

A  Battle-Cry 116 

The  Ladder  117 


CONTENTS.  V 

Page 

"  Thou  art  a  Place  to  hide  me  in  " 119 

" I  will  never  leave  Thee,  nor  forsake  Thee"       .    .     .  120 

Quicken  Thou  me 123 

"  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him  "       .     .  124 

"  Him  that  cometh  to  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out "   .  12G 

The  Lowest  Place 128 

"  Confess  your  Faults  one  to  Another  " 129 

The  Common  Offering 132 

A  Hymn  of  Contrition 133 

The  Night- Watch 134 

O  Spotless  Lamb !    .     .     .     .....    .     ...     .     .  136 

A  Psalm  of  Weariness .., 138 

When  I  Awake •.»••;-„..  139 

A  Morning  Hymn 141 

Evening  Hymn  of  Praise 142 

A  Night  of  Faith 144 

The  Divine  Love 146 

Apprehension 148 

God's  Silence       150 

"It  is  I" .     .  152 

After  the  Storm       153 

The  Monk  of  La  Trappe       ,   •,    .  154 

My  Petition 157 

The  Way  of  Thorns 160 

The  Blessed  Task 162 

Discouragement       164 

My  Field 167 

His  Peace 168 

Omniscience 170 

"  No  one  taketh  your  Peace  away  " 172 

In  the  Garden 174 

The  Two  Cities 177 

The  Waning  Year 180 

Vale                                                  183 


vi  CONTENTS. 


Part  II. 


Page 

The  Flight  of  the  Birds 187 

Friends 188 

The  Lilacs 191 

The  lliver 192 

The  Doves 193 

The  Lingering  October  Weather 195 

The  Morning  Chamber 197 

In  Spring-time    . 199 

Hospitality 201 

Two  Men 203 

My  Namesake 204 

Valentine  to  a  Priest 206 

The  Singer 207 

The  Rose  of  Jericho 208 

" Peace,  Troubled  Soul" 210 

In  Memoriam 212 

The  Home  among  the  Hills 214 

An  Easter  Incident 216 

The  Boy  who  carried  the  Cross 219 

A  Glimpse  of  Heaven 221 

Song 222 

White  Azaleas 223 

Summer-time 224 

Sweet-Peas 225 

Midsummer  Morning 228 

Day-Lilies       229 

Heliotrope 232 

Day-Dreaming ,     .  233 

Song       234 

Incognita 235 


CONTENTS.  Vii 

JUNE  SONGS: —  Page 

I.     Caprice 236 

II.     Constancy 236 

III.  Petition 237 

IV.  Expectancy .  238 

Queen  Nature 239 

Love's  Visitation 240 

To  a  Sleeping  Child 242 

A  Vigil 243 

The  Crickets        244 

To  the  Blue  Gentian 245 

Nothing  to  do 247 

The  Coat :    .     .  249 

In  Autumn 250 

The  Bell  in  the  Tower 254 

The  Feast-time  of  the  Year       256 

Good-by 258 

Bride  and  Saint 259 

Eose  and  Thorn 260 

CRADLE  SONGS: — 

I.    "  Sleep,  sweetest  Babe,  and  dream  "    ....  261 

II.     "  Sleep,  little  sunny  head !  " 262 

A  Harvest  Hymn 264 

Abraham  Lincoln 266 

Woman  (1862) 268 

SONNETS. 

Inscribed  to  J.  W.  and  C.  H.    .     .     .     , 273 

A  Woodland  Hour 275 

The  Golden  Wedding       276 

"  Save  that  there  may  be  one  love-garnering  Breast"  .  277 

Prophecy 278 

"  He  opened  not  His  Mouth  "   . 279 


viii  CONTENTS. 


Part   III. 

Page 

A  Little  Lesson 283 

Four ' 284 

Love  for  Love 286 

The  Fairy's  Dilemma 287 

The  Stuffed  Bird 290 

The  Baby  I  love 292 

Her  own  Little  Room 294 

Vive  La  Reine 297 

The  Fairy  Taper 298 

Knitting  Song 300 

The  King's  Surveyor 302 

"  If  you  were  a  Bee  " 308 

The  Little  Beggar 309 

We  do  not  Know 310 

In  the  Dark 312 

To  my  Godson 314 

A  Little  Christmas  Sermon 317 

The  Holy  Child       320 


preiuDe. 


TO 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 

Bat  for  thy  gracious  words,  revered  of  men, 
Scarce  had  I  ventured  on  from  year  to  year 
To  seek  the  great  ivorld's  much-engrossed  ear 

With  the  small  rhythmic  whispers  of  my  pen. 

And  now  to  silence  oft  withdrawing  ivhen 

Thy  songs  so  full  and  siveet,  so  strong  and  clear, 
And  those  of  others,  nobly  sung,  I  hear, 

I  ask,  Why  do  I  aught  but  listen  ?     Then 

Myself  makes  answer,  Who  hath  given  thee 
This  voice  within  that  thou  art  fain  to  still  ? 

Though  few  and  scarcely  heard  thy  notes  may  be, 
Seek  not,  nor  yet  withhold.     Trust  makes  amends 

For  Trust  that  waits  unquestioning  God's  will, 
Hearing  His  words  above  the  words  of  friends. 


PART   I. 

eo  mg  Jftotljer, 

THE  HOLY  CATHOLIC  CHURCH. 


POEMS. 


AS  THOU  WILT. 

IT  is  so  sweet  to  live 
My  little  life  to-day, 
That  I  would  never  leave  it,  if 
I  might  forever  stay  !  — 
I  sometimes  say. 

I  am  so  weary,  Lord, 

I  would  lie  down  for  aye, 
Could  I  but  hear  Thee  speak  the  word 

"  Thy  sins  are  washed  away  ! "  — 

I  sometimes  say. 

The  better  mood  that  lies 

These  moods  between  midway, 

Comes  softly,  and  I  lift  my  eyes : 
"  Lord,  as  Thou  wilt  1"  I  pray, 
And  would  alway. 


THE  GUEST. 


Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock :  if  any  man  hear 
my  voice  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will 
sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me.  —  REV.  iii.  20. 

O  PEECHLESS  Sorrow  sat  with  me ; 

^     I  was  sighing  wearily  ; 

Lamp  and  fire  were  out ;  the  rain 

Wildly  beat  the  window-pane. 

In  the  dark  I  heard  a  knock, 

And  a  hand  was  on  the  lock. 

One  in  waiting  spake  to  me, 

Saying  sweetly, 
"I  am  come  to  sup  with  thee." 

All  my  room  was  dark  and  damp  ; 
"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "  trim  the  lamp, 
Light  the  fire,  and  cheer  thy  face, 
Set  the  guest-chair  in  its  place." 
And  again  I  heard  the  knock  j 
In  the  dark  I  found  the  lock ; 
"  Enter,  I  have  turned  the  key,  — 

Enter,  Stranger, 
Who  art  come  to  sup  with  me." 
2 


THE  GUEST. 

Opening  wide  the  door  he  came, 
But  I  could  not  speak  his  name ; 
In  the  guest-chair  took  his  place, 
But  I  could  not  see  his  face. 
When  my  cheerful  fire  was  beaming, 
When  my  little  lamp  was  gleaming, 
And  the  feast  was  spread  for  three, 

Lo,  my  MASTER 
Was  the  Guest  that  supped  with  me  ! 


THE   UNSPOKEN  PKAYER. 

T   PONDEKED  how  to  shape  ray  prayer  ; 
A      I  chose  the  words  with  pious  care, 
Lest  with  my  lips  I  should  betray 
The  wish  my  heart  would  hide  away. 

The  thing  I  craved  I  dared  not  ask  ; 
Yet,  like  a  face  behind  a  mask, 
That  wish  looked  up  through  every  word,  — 
And  it  was  answered,  though  unheard  ! 


PRAYING  IN  SPIRIT. 


But  thou  when  thou  prayest  enter  into  thy  closet,  and 
when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is 
in  secret.  —  MATT.  vi.  6. 


I"  NEED  not  leave  the  jostling  world, 

Or  wait  till  daily  tasks  are  o'er, 
To  fold  my  palms  in  secret  prayer 
Within  the  close-shut  closet  door. 

There  is  a  viewless  cloistered  room 
As  high  as  heaven,  as  fair  as  day, 

Where,  though  my  feet  may  join  the  throng, 
My  soul  can  enter  in  and  pray. 

When  I  have  banished  wayward  thoughts, 
Of  sinful  works  the  fruitful  seed, 

When  folly  wins  my  ear  no  more, 
The  closet  door  is  shut  indeed. 

No  human  step  approaching  breaks 
The  blissful  silence  of  the  place  ; 

No  shadow  steals  across  the  light 
That  falls  from  my  Redeemer's  face. 

5 


PRAYING  IN  SPIRIT. 

And  never  through  those  crystal  walls 
The  clash  of  life  can  pierce  its  way  ; 

Nor  ever  can  a  human  ear 

Drink  in  the  secret  words  I  say. 

One  hearkening  even  cannot  know 

When  I  have  crossed  the  threshold  o'er  ; 

For  He  alone  who  hears  my  prayer 
Has  heard  the  shutting  of  the  door. 


ALL'S  WELL. 

day  is  ended.     Ere  I  sink  to  sleep, 
My  weary  spirit  seeks  repose  in  Thine. 
Father !  forgive  my  trespasses,  and  keep 
This  little  life  of  mine. 

With  loving-kindness  curtain  Thou  my  bed, 
And  cool  in  rest  my  burning  pilgrim-feet ; 
Thy  pardon  be  the  pillow  for  my  head  j 
So  shall  my  sleep  be  sweet. 

At  peace  with  all  the  world,  dear  Lord,  and  Thee, 
No  fears  my  soul's  unwavering  faith  can  shake ; 
All 's  well,  whichever  side  the  grave  for  me 
The  morning  light  may  break. 

7 


"THE   BLESSED   COMPAXY   OF   ALL 
FAITHFUL    PEOPLE." 

TT>  ETWEEN  the  gray  dawn  and  the  golden  day 
••-^     Methought  low  murmurs  troubled  all  the 

land,  — 

Disquietude  and  strife  where  should  he  peace, 
In  the  white  tents  of  that  sweet  Prince  of  Peace 
Whose  hosts  encamp  amidst  "a  naughty  world." 
As  swelled  the  murmurs,  under  all  I  heard 
The  sighing  of  the  leaders,  men  of  prayer, 
Steadfast  in  faith,  though  sometimes  faint  of  voice, 
Worn  with  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day, 
And  the  half-hearted  zeal  of  many  a  rank  ; 
And  harsh  above  their  sighings  louder  rose 
The  sounds  of  party  and  opposing  speech, 
And  louder  yet  the  petty-tongued  complaints 
Of  such  as  had  not  learned  obedience, 
That  first,  last  law  for  these  rebellious  hearts, 
Given  of  God  and  taught  of  Holy  Church. 
Anon,  and  piercing  all  the  clamor  through, 
The  Lord's  own  heralds  blew  their  bugle-notes; 
For  He  would  set  the  faithful  in  array. 
Then  sudden  silence  made  a  little  space 
For  the  One  Voice  that  fills  the  universe, 
And  Christ's  own  roll-call  swept  the  white  camp 
through. 


THE  BLESSED   COMPANY.  9 

And  lo  !  the  faithful  noiseless  moved  as  thought 

Responsive,  yet  unconscious  of  response, 

Their  rapt  eyes  lifted  to  the  shining  morn, 

As  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible. 

He  named  them,  clan  by  clan,  His  chosen  ones : 

The  poor  in  spirit,  and  the  souls  that  mourn, 

The  meek,  and  those  for  righteousness  athirst, 

The  merciful,  the  pure  in  heart,  the  just, 

The  valiant,  the  forbearing,  named  He  thus. 

For  every  clan  a  benediction  sweet, 

And  sweeter  promises  of  victory,  thus  :  — 

Blessed  are  the  poor, 

Jesus  spake ; 

Poor  in  spirit  for  My  sake ; 

Who  seek  the  glory  of  this  world  no  more, 

Nor  gather  riches  that  shall  fly  away ; 

Of  the  heavenly  kingdom  heirs  are  they. 

Blessed, 

Blessed  they  who  mourn,  He  said  ; 

Precious  are  the  tears  they  shed, 

The  ashes  on  the  bowed  head. 

All  their  sins  confessed, 

They  shall  be  comforted. 

Blessed  are  the  meek, 

Who  seek 

The  Father's  will  in  quietness  and  peace, 

Caring  little  for  all  things  beside ; 


10  THE  BLESSED   COMPANY  OF 

They  shall  increase, 

And  with  the  fulness  of  the  earth  be  satisfied. 

Blessed  they,  He  said, 

After  righteousness  an-hungered ; 

Blessed  they  whose  thirst 

The  pleasures  of  this  world  accurst 

Have  not  stilled ; 

With  My  bread 

Shall  the  famished  be  fed  ; 

With  My  wine  the  parched  lips  be  filled. 

Blessed,  blessed  they 

The  merciful,  whose  ears 

Are  swift  to  hear  the  crying  of  distress  ; 

Soft  as  the  rain  in  summer  fall  their  tears ; 

Their  place  is  found  beside  the  fatherless. 

Yea, 

Blessed  they 

To  whom  the  outcast  and  the  poor  complain 

Not  in  vain ; 

Mercies  numberless 

They  hereafter  shall  obtain. 

Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  He  said, 
Whose  feet  the  paths  of  holiness  do  tread, 
Whose  looks  are  God-ward,  and  whose  hands  are 

clean ; 

Through  glories  manifold 
Shall  they  behold 
Him  whom  no  eye  hath  seen. 


ALL  FAITHFUL  PEOPLE.  11 

Blessed  they  who  seek 

To  turn  all  strife  to  peace. 

Whose  words  are  as  a  covert  to  the  weak, 

Who  make  the  anger  of  the  strong  to  cease ; 

Children  of  God  shall  they 

Be  called  for  aye. 

Blessed  they  who  steadfast  stand 

Through  persecutions  dread, 

Though  on  every  hand 

The  wicked  bend  the  bow 

To  lay  them  low  ; 

Theirs  the  kingdom  never  vanquished. 

Blessed  ye  when  men  revile 

And  persecute  you  falsely  for  My  sake ; 

Ye  who,  walking  without  guile, 

With  Me  partake 

Shame  and  scorn  awhile. 

Yea,  rejoice, 

Ye  who  fly  not  from  the  arrows  of  the  strong ; 

Be  exceeding  glad,  for  unto  you  is  given 

Great  reward  in  heaven  ; 

Even  now  lift  up  your  voice 

In  victorious  song ; 

For  so  persecuted  they 

The  prophets  in  their  day  : 

Again  rejoice. 

Then  all  the  winds  of  heaven  :  Amen  !  Amen  ! 


SECUKITY. 

in  the  grass  the  trustful  lark 
Conceals  its  lowly  nest, 
Where  cruel  eye  may  seldom  mark 
Or  cruel  hand  molest. 

At  least  approach  of  footsteps  rude 

The  little  bird  upsprings ; 
From  solitude  to  solitude 

It  soars  on  swiftest  wings. 

Far  up  the  azure  height  it  soars 
Beyond  the  reach  of  wrong, 

And  from  its  modest  breast  outpours 
Its  rapt,  entrancing  song. 

Thus  dwells  the  pious  soul  secure, 

In  meditation  blest ; 
The  foot  of  pride,  ambition's  lure, 

Scarce  find  the  hidden  nest. 

And  when  the  tempter  draweth  near, 
His  faintest  footsteps  heard, 

Swift  on  the  wings  of  holy  fear 
She  soars  as  soars  the  bird. 
12 


SECURITY.  13 

Free  in  the  vast  encircling  sky 

Of  God's  protecting  grace, 
She  pours  her  matchless  song  on  high 

Of  thankfulness  and  praise. 


MY  KNOWLEDGE. 


HP HOUGH  men  confront  the  Living  God 
*-       With  wisdom  than  His  word  more  wise, 
And  leaving  paths  apostles  trod 

Their  own  devise ; 
I  would  myself  forsake  and  flee, 
0  Christ,  the  living  Way,  to  Thee. 


I  know  not  what  the  schools  may  teach, 

Nor  yet  how  far  from  truth  depart ; 
One  lesson  is  within  my  reach,  — 

The  Truth  Thou  art. 
And  learning  this  I  learn  each  day 
To  cast  all  other  lore  away. 

I  cannot  solve  mysterious  things 

That  fill  the  schoolmen's  thoughts  with  strife  ; 
But  oh,  what  peace  this  knowledge  brings  — 

Thou  art  the  Life  ! 
Hid  in  Thy  everlasting  deeps, 
The  silent  God  His  secret  keeps. 
14 


MY  KNOWLEDGE.  15 

The  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life  Thou  art, 

This,  this  I  know ;  to  this  I  cleave ; 
The  sweet  new  language  of  my  heart, 

"  Lord,  I  believe." 
I  have  no  doubts  to  bring  to  Thee  ; 
My  doubt  has  fled ;  my  faith  is  free. 


HOLY  MYSTERIES. 

T_T  0 W  can  it  be  —  the  sweet  new  birth 

Of  water  and  the  Spirit  wrought, 
Beyond  the  wisdom  of  the  earth 
To  understand  or  bring  to  nought ! 
We  know  not  how  ; 
We  only  bow 
And  say,  Amen. 

How  can  it  be  —  the  Holy  Ghost 

His  seven-fold  gifts  on  men  bestows 
Through  laying  on  of  hands  that  boast 
No  power  the  mystery  to  disclose  ! 
We  know  not  how  ; 
We  only  bow 
And  sr»y,  Amen. 

How  can  it  be  —  the  priestly  prayer 

Of  consecration  duly  said, 
And  we  the  one  Oblation  share, 
And  feed  upon  the  Living  Bread ! 
We  know  not  how ; 
We  only  bow 
And  say,  Amen. 

How  can  it  be  —  the  precious  Blood 
Once  shed  for  man  doth  never  fail, 
16 


HOLY  MYSTERIES.  17 

But  flows  a  sacramental  flood 

That  contrite  sinners  shall  avail ! 
We  know  not  how ; 
We  only  bow 
And  say,  Amen. 

How  can  it  be  —  from  age  to  age, 

Since  the  great  day  of  Pentecost, 
The  Church  abides,  though  heathen  rage, 
The  grace  of  Orders  never  lost ! 
We  know  not  how ; 
We  only  bow 
And  say,  Amen. 

How  can  it  be  —  goes  forth  the  word 
Of  holy  Church,  and  twain  are  one : 
Type  of  Her  union  with  Her  Lord, 
Foreshadowed  when  the  race  begun  ! 
We  know  not  how ; 
We  only  bow 
And  say,  Amen. 

How  can  it  be  that  wine  and  bread 

In  death's  dark  hour  shall  life  afford, 
Till  with  His  unveiled  Presence  fed 
We  are  forever  with  the  Lord ! 
We  know  not  how  ; 
We  only  bow 
And  say,  Amen. 


THE   CHRISTIAN  YEAE. 

A  DVENT :  now  begins  the  year, 
•^^      Opening  with  holy  fear. 
Haste,  ye  faithful,  to  prepare 
For  the  coming  in  the  air 
Of  the  Lord  with  angels  bright 
Thronging  from  the  heavenly  height ! 
He  shall  come  our  Judge  to  be ; 
Haste,  ye  faithful;  bow  the  knee; 
Watch  ye  all,  and  watching  pray : 
"  Jesus,  spare  us  in  that  Day  ! " 

CHRISTMAS  :  time  of  exultation, 
Joy,  and  peace,  and  adoration, 
Telling  how  of  old  He  came, 
Sinless  Babe  of  Saving  Name ; 
How  the  shepherds,  angel-sent, 
Swift  to  Bethlehem's  manger  went, 
There  to  find  the  Child  foretold 
By  all  Prophet-tongues  of  old ; 
Little  King,  no  sceptre  bearing, 
But  the  meanest  shelter  sharing ; 
18 


THE  CHRISTIAN    YEAR.  19 

Son  of  God,  His  glory  hiding, 
And  as  Man  with  man  abiding ; 
Son  of  Mary,  lowly  Maiden, 
With  eternal  honor  laden  ; 
Little  Jesus,  coming  still 
To  the  hearts  He  fain  would  fill ; 
Finding  with  the  meek  a  place 
To  exalt  them  through  His  grace ; 
While  the  angels,  as  of  yore, 
Praises  still  on  praises  pour, 
And  with  "  Merry  Christmas  "  sweet 
Christians  all  good  Christians  greet. 

CIRCUMCISION  :  showing  forth 
Of  obedience  the  worth, 
When  the  little  Jesus,  brought 
To  the  Kite  commanded,  taught 
All  his  children  to  obey, 
Following  in  the  Church's  way ; 
To  be  pure  as  He  is  pure, 
Seeking  pleasures  that  endure. 

EPIPHANY  :  whose  wondrous  Star 
Led  the  Magi  from  afar, 
And  the  Christ  revealed  to  them 
In  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem. 
Precious  gold  to  Him  they  bring, 
Thus  acknowledging  their  King ; 


20  THE  CHRISTIAN    YEAR. 

Precious  frankincense  they  pour 
For  the  God  whom  they  adore ; 
Precious  myrrh  their  love  supplies 
For  their  Lord  and  Sacrifice. 
Every  gift  we  can  command 
Of  loyal  heart  and  loyal  hand, 
Every  deed  that  serves  to  show 
Heavenly  love  in  love  below, 
Jesus  claims  as  tribute  due, 
All  good  Christians,  now  from  you. 

When  Epiphany  is  spent, 
Sundays  three,  like  heralds  sent, 
Cry  aloud  the  Fast  of  LENT. 
Septuagesima  first,  and  second 
Scxagesima  is  reckoned ; 
Quinquagesima,  the  last ; 
Then  comes  in  the  solemn  Fast, 
With  Ash  Wednesday's  litanies, 
That  from  hearts  repentant  rise. 
Forty  days  at  Jesus'  feet 
Hide  we  now  in  blest  retreat. 
At  their  close  through  Holy  Week, 
We  His  way  of  sorrow  seek, 
Entering  first  Jerusalem, 
While  the  throngs  His  progress  hem, 
And  with  shouts  of  welcome  press 
Zion's  lowly  King  to  bless, 
Scattering  palms  along  His  way 


THE    CHRISTIAN    YEAR.  21 

On  that  one  triumphant  Day. 
Though  they  shout,  He  weeps  aloud 
O'er  the  self-deceiving  crowd. 
Through  that  Week  we  see  Him  bear 
Anguish  none  can  know  or  share  j 
On  Good  Friday  follow  Him 
Scourged  and  bruised  in  every  limb, 
And  with  thorns  in  insult  crowned. 
While  the  foes  that  Him  surround 
Gibes  and  jeers  incessant  toss 
On  the  Altar  of  the  Cross, 
We  behold  Him  meekly  die 
For  the  world's  iniquity. 
Every  Friday  for  His  sake 
Let  us  here  our  station  take, 
At  His  feet  confession  making, 
Self  and  sin  abhorred  forsaking. 

EASTER-EVEN  :  Hour  of  rest ; 
Faith's  sweet  vigil  calm  and  blest. 
In  the  tomb  His  Body  lies, 
And  His  Soul  in  Paradise 
Waits  the  morn  when  He  shall  rise. 
Here  we  watch  and  watching  ponder 
On  the  never-lessened  wonder, 
How  from  Baptism  we  emerge 
On  the  new  life's  trembling  verge, 
In  His  death  the  "  old  man  "  dead 
And  the  "  new  man  "  raised  instead. 


22  THE    CHRISTIAN    YEAR. 

Henceforth  now  be  crucified 
All  our  anger,  lust,  and  pride ; 
Every  evil  passion  die, 
Mortified  continually ! 

EASTER-DAY  :  The  "  day  of  days : " 

Radiance  immortal  plays 

Bound  the  sepulchre  whose  door, 

Open  now  can  close  no  more ! 

Stricken  guard  and  broken  seal 

To  our  longing  eyes  reveal 

What  the  glorious  Angel  saith 

Who  unbarred  that  gate  of  death  : 

"•  He  is  risen ;  do  not  fear ; 

Jesus  is  no  longer  here ; 

But  in  lowly  Galilee 

Ye  again  your  Lord  shall  see." 

Swift,  with  Alleluias  sweet, 

Follow  we  His  holy  feet, 

Singing  all  the  joyful  way : 

"  Christ  the  Lord  has  risen  to-day  ! " 

Precious  EASTER-TIDE  :  Again 

Jesus  walks  the  ways  of  men ; 

In  a  body  glorified, 

Yet  the  very  same  that  died, 

Pierced  in  hands,  and  feet,  and  side ; 

And  we  know  in  His  own  time 

We  shall  share  that  change  sublime. 


THE   CHRISTIAN    YEAR.  23 

Forty  days,  most  wondrous  days  ! 
He  in  word  and  act  displays 
Sign  and  miracle,  the  keys 
Of  His  Kingdom's  Mysteries. 

On  the  great  ASCENSION  DAY, 
When  those  Forty  Days  are  ended, 
With  His  holy  hands  extended, 
Leading  forth  His  chosen,  pressing 
To  receive  His  final  blessing, 
We  behold  Him  pass  away ; 
In  a  cloud  of  glory  rise, 
Vanishing  from  mortal  eyes. 
Once  again  the  Angels  fair, 
Tidings  wonderful  declare ; 
He  shall  come  again,  they  say, 
As  ye  saw  Him  go  away. 

While  our  hearts  within  us  burn, 

With  His  chosen  now  we  turn 

And  obedient  with  them 

Go  we  to  Jerusalem, 

There  in  expectation  sweet 

To  wait  the  Promised  Paraclete,  — 

The  Holy  Ghost,  whose  tongues  of  fire 

Shall  illumine  and  inspire. 

Lo  !  He  comes  on  WHITSUN-DAY, 

The  Holy  Ghost  for  whom  we  pray, 

And  on  rushing,  mighty  wings, 


24  THE   CHRISTIAN    YEAR. 

Gift  of  seven-fold  gifts  he  brings, 
And  His  coming  marks  the  birth 
Of  the  Holy  Church  on  earth. 
Now  our  Jesus'  mission  ended, 
Be  our  triune  praises  blended 
To  the  Father  and  the  Son 
And  the  Holy  Ghost  in  One. 
Holy!  Holy!  Holy!  cry 
On  the  Feast  of  TRINITY  ; 
And  till  Advent  comes  again 
Alleluia  be  our  strain  ! 


JESUS,   MY  REFUGE. 

TESUS,  my  Refuge,  to  the  secret  places 

Where  Thou  dost  hide  I  flee, 
To  learn  Thy  blessed  Truth,  from  all  the  mazes 
Of  human  thought  set  free. 

Without  denial  and  without  refraining 

I  must  receive  Thy  word ; 
Not  what  Thou  meanest  after  man's  explaining, 

But  what  Thou  sayest,  Lord. 

Shut  from  the  strife  of  tongues  that  yield  con- 
fusion 

Quick  grows  the  inward  ear 
Thy  sweet  assurance,  stripped  of  all  delusion, 

In  humble  faith  to  hear. 

In  mysteries  beyond  the  dim  perceiving 

Of  Reason's  clouded  eyes, 
Thou  dost  reveal  Thyself  to  souls  believing, 

Too  loving  for  disguise. 

25 


26  J£SUS,    Ml"  REFUGE. 

And  oh,  how  loving,  dearest  Lord,  how  tender 

Beyond  all  love  Thou  art 
When  to  Thy  feet  we  cling  in  full  surrender, 

With  sorrow-broken  heart ! 

Absolving,  healing,  strengthening,  uniting, 

Ihrough  sacramental  grace, 
And  to  communion  closer  yet  inviting, 

Thou  dost  unveil  Thy  face. 

For  faith  alone  low-kneeling  in  contrition 

The  load  of  sin  grows  light ; 
To  faith  alone  Thou  dost  vouchsafe  that  vision, 

And  faith  is  almost  sight. 


THE   HOUSE   OF   GOD. 

HPHE  Lord's  own  Temple  !  in  His  Holy  Name 
*•       What   reverent   steps   its  very   pavements 

claim  ! 

Oh,  enter  softly  !     He  who  here  abides 
From  mortal  eyes  His  form,  His  glory  hides ; 
Yet  all  around  in  all  these  fair  designs 
His  Name  is  written  in  mysterious  lines, 
And  everywhere  the  sacred  symbols  speak 
Of  Him  whom  all  may  find  who  truly  seek. 
Here  human  art  attains  its  loftiest  reach, 
Eternal  truths  to  shadow  forth  and  teach  ; 
And  beauty  here  in  sweet  constraint  doth  dwell, 
Where  every  color  teaches  truth  as  well ; 
And  even  the  unlettered  here  may  learn, 
Led  by  Devotion's  hand  at  every  turn. 

These  steadfast  stones  the  "living  stones"  declare 
Whereof  is  built  a  temple  far  more  fair, 
Whose  corner-stone  is  Christ ;    whose   piers   un- 
seen, 

The  same  to-day  as  they  have  ever  been. 
Are  Prophets  and  Apostles,  — noble  line, 
The  Church's  firm  foundations  to  define ! 

27 


28  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

Within  these  walls   what  peace!    (Christ  is  our 

Peace !) 

What  silence  reigns  where  earthly  noises  cease  ! 
Silence  wherethrough  we  almost  hear  the  sound 
Of  angels  thronging  all  the  sacred  ground. 

Here  at  the  portal  pause  and  reverent  gaze  : 

A  holy  order  all  the  place  displays. 

The  triple  length,  the  triple  breadth  and  height 

Proclaim  one  mystery  to  the  wondering  sight, 

That,  scaling  pillar,  arch,  and  window  fair, 

Seeks  the  vast  roof  to  find  the  One  God  there  ; 

Then  from  that  lofty  height  in  awe  descends 

To  mark  how  majesty  with  mercy  blends  ; 

In  nave  and  choir  and  transept  arms  stretched  wide, 

Behold  the  symbol  of  the  Crucified  ; 

And  in  the  kneeling  throng,  in  mystery, 

His  Body  one  with  Him  its  Head  on  high, 

Sharing  His  Cross  to  share  at  last  His  Crown,  — 

The  Life  He  won  for  us  through  life  laid  down. 

See,  many-hued  and  glorious  the  beams 
Of  heavenly  light  that  on  the  darkness  streams, 
Reveals  the  blazoned  pane,  and  lends  a  glow 
To  recess  dim  and  shadowed  aisle  below ; 
An  ever-shifting,  never-changing  flood, 
To  touch  our  every  sense,  our  every  mood ; 
As  the  sweet  Gospel  answers  every  need 
And  on  our  darkness  pours  the  light  indeed ! 


THE  HOUSE    OF   GOD.  29 

Here  stands  the  Font,  placed  just  within  the  door, 
To  say  to  all  who  pass  the  threshold  o'er : 
Ye  who  the  Church  of  God  would  enter,  know 
One  only  way  our  Saviour  Christ  did  show  — 
By  holy  baptism ;  this  the  lowly  gate 
For  helpless  infancy  and  man's  estate ; 
For  since  God's  grace  alone  can  lead  them  in, 
Wisdom  and  age  like  babes  must  entrance  win. 
Here  stands  the  Font,  and  here  the  Heavenly  Dove 
Its  depths  to  sanctify,  on  wings  of  love 
Hovers  unseen.     Beneath  this  cleansing  wave 
Doth  God  regenerate  whom  He  would  save  ; 
Through  this  fair  tide  He  calleth  all  to  pass 
Into  His  Kingdom  ;  this  the  sea  of  glass 
Before  His  altar-throne  that  far  away 
Beyond  the  nave,  the  choir,  in  fair  array, 
Within  the  rood-screen  lifts  its  gleaming  height, 
And  floods  the  space  around  with  sacred  light, 
As  the  White  Throne  and  He  who  sits  thereon. 
Fill  Heaven  with  majesty  above  the  sun. 
And  like  the  rainbow  round  the  Throne  appear 
The  changing  colors  of  the  Christian  year 
As  all  the  holy  seasons  come  and  go, 
And  o'er  the  Altar  hues  symbolic  throw  : 
Violet  when  mourns  the  Church  a  penitent 
Through  solemn  fasts  of  Advent  and  of  Lent, 
And  all  the  lesser  vigils  that  she  keeps 
When  o'er  her  sins  for  Jesus'  sake  she  weeps ; 
Through  Christmas-,  Easter-,  and  Ascension-tide, 


30  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

And  many  a  holy-day  that  falls  beside, 
Symbol  of  purity,  of  joy,  of  light, 
Of  victory  and  peace,  white,  —  shining  white  ; 
And  red  for  Whitsun-tide,  the  hue  of  flame,  — 
JKed  for  the  saints  who  martyrs  too  became  ; 
While  green,  that  tells  of  hope  that  cannot  die, 
Greets  the  exultant  gaze  through  Trinity. 
Once,  only  once,  through  all  the  changing  year 
(Save  for  some  burial  hour)  doth  black  appear ; 
As  Jesus  bore  our  sins  upon  the  Tree, 
That  Day  the  altar  draped  in  woe  we  see. 
Elsewhere  two  colors  changing  not  abound 
On  frescoed  walls  and  pictured  saints  surround, 
The  blue  of  heavenly  truth,  the  burning  red 
Of  holy  ardor,  —  these  the  Church  have  led 
Through  martyr  fires  and  persecutions  dread ; 
And  all  unclouded  still  the  Truth  doth  shine, 
Still  glows  the  ardor,  fed  by  grace  divine. 
Eastward  the  nave  extending  mutely  saith : 
Lo,  there  He  rose  triumphant  over  death ; 
The  Light  of  light,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
Whom  nations  .long  in  darkness  hid  confess. 
Thence  He  with  all  His  angels  shall  descend 
In  the  Great  Day  when  time  itself  shall  end ! 
Ever  through  solemn  fast  and  gladsome  feast 
The  Church  expectant  worships  toward  the  east, 
In  prayers  and  praises  mingling  joy  and  dread 
Of  Him  who  comes  to  judge  both  quick  and  dead, 
Who  doth  a  place  beside  His  Throne  prepare 


THE  HOUSE   OF  GOD.  31 

For  her,  His  Bride,  to  be  exalted  there, 

And  keeps  with  her  meanwhile  His  awful  tryst 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Eucharist. 

Within  the  nave  the  pulpit  fair  uprears, 

Whence  the  glad  message  whoso  hearkens  hears  ; 

As  from  the  stone  forever  rolled  away 

The  angel  of  the  Resurrection  Day 

Proclaimed  the  tidings  of  the  Risen  Lord, 

The  crowning  miracle  that  should  afford 

No  room  for  doubt,  and  for  denial  none,  — 

Eternal  life,  eternal  victory  won. 

The  steps  from  nave  to  choir  that  upward  lead 
Teach  us  humility,  and  bid  us  heed 
How  we  regard  the  Heaven-appointed  priest 
Who  at  the  altar  serves ;  though  he  be  least 
'Mong  men,  he  standeth  in  the  Lord's  own  stead 
When  in  His  Name  he  breaks  the  holy  Bread, 
And  with  the  Hidden  Manna  duly  feeds 
The  hungry  flock  that  follows  where  he  leads. 
Yea,  in  the  Name  and  Person  of  the  Lord 
Pie  breaks  the  Bread  and  he  proclaims  the  Word  ; 
'T  is  from  his  hand  the  stream  Baptismal  flows, 
Pardon  he  speaks  and  peace,  Christ's  peace,  be- 
stows. 

Within  the  choir  mark  first  the  lectern  stand, 
The  stalls  and  prayer-desks  ranged  on  either  hand  ; 
Here  lies  the  Holy  Book  whose  mysteries 


32  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

Are  sealed  to  many  a  scholar  great  and  wise, 

But  to  the  children  of  the  Kingdom  yield 

The  priceless  treasures  even  on  earth  revealed. 

Pair  and  more  fair  hehold  the  place  appear 

As  to  the  holiest  our  feet  draw  near ; 

Each  least  detail  how  beautiful  to  trace, 

And  learn  the  moulding  touch  of  Heavenly  grace. 

See,  too,  how  oft  the  varied  cross  we  find, 

That  pleads  on  every  hand,  Leave  all  behind. 

Three  steps  again  ascending  seem  to  say, 

Thus   must  the  pilgrim  mount  the  Heavenward 

way; 

By  faith,  hope,  charity,  —  these  three  ; 
The  last  is  first ;  the  chiefest,  charity, 
Whose  one  supremest  height  He  reached  alone 
As  Man  who  only  could  for  man  atone. 
As  unto  Christ  both  Priest  and  Sacrifice 
The  earth's  wide  ends  must  turn  their  countless 

eyes, 

So  on  the  altar  all  the  temple  waits ; 
Here  vision  centres,  worship  culminates. 
To  this  His  shrine  the  Church  adoring  brings 
Her  richest  gifts,  her  choicest  offerings ; 
Her  tribute  gold,  her  myrrh  of  penitence, 
And  in  her  praise  the  precious  frankincense. 
And  ever  on  "  the  altar  trimmed  aright  " 
She  tends  with  loving  care  each  typic  light, 
The  God,  the  Man,  unceasing  to  proclaim, 
While  the  mid-cross  declares  His  saving  Name. 


THE  HOUSE   OF   GOD.  33 

0  House  of  God  !  thy  beauty  half  untold 
Is  lost  to  many  an  eye  that  might  behold, 
While  many  a  tongue  complains,  This  might  be 

sold 

And  given  to  the  poor  ;  and  men  forget 
How  like  complaint  by  Christ  Himself  was  met, 
And  fail  to  mark  how  they  who  fairest  make 
His  temple,  love  His  poor  for  Jesus'  sake, 
In  proof  whereof  they  consecrate  with  care 
Their  gifts  to  them  upon  His  altar  fair, 
That  they  with  Him  and  He  with  them  may  share. 

Jesus,  who  hadst  not  where  to  lay  Thy  Head 
When  Thou  the  pathways  of  Thy  poor  didst  tread, 
Too  mean  for  Thee  the  temples  that  we  raise, 
Though  echoing  to  centuries  of  praise  ! 


THE  VISION  IN  THE  CHALICE. 

INSCRIBED    TO    H.    E.    H. 

'"PHE  priest  before  the  Altar 
•*•       Stood  with  uplifted  eyes, 
His  heart  deep  stirred  within  him, 
To  offer  the  sacrifice. 

The  morning's  golden  splendor 

Through  the  chancel  window  streamed 
Till  like  masses  of  precious  jewels 

The  radiant  colors  seemed. 

But  around  the  central  picture 
Of  the  Christ  upon  the  Rood 

It  shone  like  a  wondrous  halo 
As  the  priest  upgazing  stood. 

The  prayer  of  consecration 

Began  he  low  and  clear, 
And  at  the  mystic  sentence 

Bowed  down  in  holy  fear ; 

Bowed  lowly  over  the  Paten, 

As  he  took  in  his  hands  the  Bread ; 

And  likewise  the  mystic  sentence 
Over  the  Cup  he  said. 
34 


THE   VISION  IN  THE   CHALICE.  35 

When  lo  !  in  the  golden  Chalice, 

Distinct  in  the  purple  wine, 
He  saw  reflected  the  image 

Of  the  Crucified  Form  Divine. 

Filled  with  a  sudden  tremor, 

His  eyes  deep  fixed  on  the  sight, 
Scarcely  the  prayer  he  followed 

Or  knew  if  he  said  it  aright. 

Trembling  with  adoration 

He  lifted  the  Chalice  high, . 
As  upholding  the  sacred  Burden 

Between  the  earth  and  the  sky. 

And  still  when  the  Chalice  he  lowered, 

Distinct  in  the  purple  wine, 
From  the  chancel  windows  reflected 

He  saw  the  Image  Divine. 

Did  he  hear  in  the  hush  that  followed 

The  words  of  the  Lord  anew, 
Brought  down  by  the  Church  through  the  ages, 

The  mystical  charge,  "  This  do  "  ? 

Did  he  hear  from  the  Holy  of  holies, 

The  secret,  eternal  shrine, 
The  Priest  who  is  Priest  forever 

Renew  the  assurance  divine  ?  — 


THE  VISION  IN  THE  CHALICE. 

INSCRIBED    TO    H.    E.    H. 

'"PHE  priest  before  the  Altar 
•*•       Stood  with  uplifted  eyes, 
His  heart  deep  stirred  within  him, 
To  offer  the  sacrifice. 

The  morning's  golden  splendor 

Through  the  chancel  window  streamed 
Till  like  masses  of  precious  jewels 

The  radiant  colors  seemed. 

But  around  the  central  picture 
Of  the  Christ  upon  the  Rood 

It  shone  like  a  wondrous  halo 
As  the  priest  upgazing  stood. 

The  prayer  of  consecration 

Began  he  low  and  clear, 
And  at  the  mystic  sentence 

Bowed  down  in  holy  fear ; 

Bowed  lowly  over  the  Paten, 

As  he  took  in  his  hands  the  Bread ; 

And  likewise  the  mystic  sentence 
Over  the  Cup  he  said. 
34 


THE   VISION  IN  THE    CHALICE.  35 

When  lo  !  in  the  golden  Chalice, 

Distinct  in  the  purple  wine, 
He  saw  reflected  the  image 

Of  the  Crucified  Form  Divine. 

Filled  with  a  sudden  tremor, 

His  eyes  deep  fixed  on  the  sight, 
Scarcely  the  prayer  he  followed 

Or  knew  if  he  said  it  aright. 

Trembling  with  adoration 

He  lifted  the  Chalice  high,  t 
As  upholding  the  sacred  Burden 

Between  the  earth  and  the  sky. 

And  still  when  the  Chalice  he  lowered, 

Distinct  in  the  purple  wine, 
From  the  chancel  windows  reflected 

He  saw  the  Image  Divine. 

Did  he  hear  in  the  hush  that  followed 

The  words  of  the  Lord  anew, 
Brought  down  by  the  Church  through  the  ages, 

The  mystical  charge,  "  This  do  "  ? 

Did  he  hear  from  the  Holy  of  holies, 

The  secret,  eternal  shrine, 
The  Priest  who  is  Priest  forever 

Renew  the  assurance  divine  ?  — 


36  THE   VISION  IN   THE  CHALICE. 

"  Lo !  I  am  with  you  alway, 

Blessing  the  Cup  that  you  bless ; 

Under  the  Bread  you  have  broken 
My  Presence  proclaim  and  confess. 

"  Lo  !  I  am  with  you  alway, 
Mine  own  command  to  fulfil ; 

I  am  the  Sacrifice  offered, 

The  Priest  and  the  Victim  still. 

"  Lo  !  I  am  with  you  alway, 
Feeding  the  flock  that  you  feed, 

My  Flesh  the  manna  unfailing, 
My  Blood  the  drink  indeed." 

0  blessed,  0  wondrous  commission ! 

It  seemed  to  the  lowly  priest 
Like  a  precious  new  revelation, 

As  he  shared  with  his  flock  that  Feast. 

And  ever  enshrined  in  his  bosom 
He  treasures  with  holy  awe 

The  memory  of  the  vision 

That  veiled  in  the  Chalice  he  saw 


THE  DIVINE  PUEPOSE. 

A  S  springs  that  feed  our  lives  unseen 
**:     And  keep  their  daily  pastures  green, 
All-gracious  Lord,  Thy  mercies  flow ; 
Before  we  ask  Thou  dost  bestow. 

And  thus  with  gifts  as  well  as  grace 
Thou  winnest  us  to  seek  Thy  Face, 
And  kneeling  low  Thy  care  to  own, 
And  make  our  dearest  wishes  known. 

No  voice  of  prayer  to  Thee  can  rise, 
But  swift  as  light  Thy  Love  replies ; 
Not  always  what  we  ask,  indeed, 
But,  0  Most  Kind!  what  most  we  need. 

When  we  beseech  the  good  that  might, 
Because  of  self,  some  sweet  hope  blight, 
Some  holy  impulse  turn  astray, 
Thy  tender  purpose  answers,  Nay. 

For  bread  may  nourish  less  than  stone, 
If  eaten  thankless  or  alone ; 
And  many  a  pure,  desired  thing 
Might  prove  a  snare  or  hide  a  sting. 

37 


38  THE  DIVINE  PURPOSE. 

But  Thou,  0  Saviour  pitiful, 
Who  seest  us  so  blind  and  dull, 
Constrainest  us  with  mercies  still 
To  seek  alone  Thy  Holy  Will. 

Oh,  soon  or  late  how  sweet  to  learn 
It  is  that  Will  for*  which  we  yearn, 
When  yielding  to  its  sway  Divine 
We  have  no  wish  apart  from  Thine ! 


"JESUS,  THE   LADDEE  OF  MY  FAITH." 

JESUS,  the  ladder  of  my  faith 
Bests  on  the  jasper  walls  of  Heaven ; 
And  through  the  veiling  clouds  I  catch 
Faint  visions  of  the  mystic  Seven. 

The  glory  of  the  rainbowed  Throne 

Illumes  those  clouds  like  lambent  flame, 

As  once  on  earth  Thy  Love  divine 

Burned  through  the  robes  of  human  shame. 

Thou  art  the  same,  O  gracious  Lord, 

The  same  dear  Christ  that  Thou  wert  then, 

And  all  the  praises  angels  sing 

Delight  Thee  less  than  prayers  of  men. 

We  have  no  tears  Thou  wilt  not  dry ; 

We  have  no  wounds  Thou  wilt  not  heal ; 
No  sorrows  pierce  our  human  hearts 

That  Thou,  dear  Saviour,  dost  not  feel. 

Thy  pity  like  the  dew  distils, 

And  Thy  compassion  like  the  light 

Our  every  morning  overfills, 

And  crowns  with  stars  our  every  night. 

39 


40       "JESUS,  THE  LADDER   OF  MY  FAITH." 

Let  not  the  world's  rude  conflict  drown 
The  charmed  music  of  Thy  voice 

That  calls  all  weary  ones  to  rest, 
And  bids  all  mourning  souls  rejoice. 


"THE  COMMUNION  OF   SAINTS." 

CATTERED  through  the  holy  Year 

The  Church's  holy-days  appear, 
Sacred  to  the  chief  among 
That  innumerable  throng 
Of  the  blessed  saints  of  God 
Who  the  way  of  sorrows  trod. 
Sword-like  flame  and  flame-like  sword, 
Ravening  beast  and  blood  outpoured, 
Persecutions  manifold, 
More  than  page  hath  ever  told, 
For  the  love  of  Christ  they  bora 
Who  can  suffer  now  no  more, 
But  at  rest  in  Paradise 
Drink  of  endless  victories. 
Parted  from  our  sight  are  they, 
Yet  a  cloud  of  witnesses 
Do  they  watch  us  on  the  way 
Where  our  foes  unnumbered  press. 
One  with  us,  their  words  of  cheer 
Ever  reach  us  struggling  here ; 
One  with  us,  their  every  name 
Puts  our  laggard  strife  to  shame. 
While  those  names  she  still  repeats 
Year  by  year,  the  Church  entreats : 

41 


42  "THE   COMMUNION  OF  SAINTS." 

Fight  as  they,  forsaking  all ; 

Back  nor  cross  could  them  appall. 

Warfare  or  within,  without, 

In  their  ears  was  victory's  shout; 

Whatso  treasure  they  possessed 

Dross  became  through  Christ  confessed ; 

Poverty  was  wealth,  and  pain 

Pledge  of  everlasting  gain ; 

Bitterness  was  sweet  to  taste ; 

Torture  slow  was  heavenly  haste ; 

While  their  Captain  glorious, 

Over  all  victorious, 

Fought  with  them,  and  in  His  strength 

Made  them  conquerors  at  length. 

Now,  as  then,  the  battle  rages ; 
Christians  still  the  Foe  engages ; 
Though  he  colors  change  and  name, 
Is  that  deadly  Foe  the  same. 
Seven-fold  the  might  he  wields 
O'er  the  victim  soul  that  yields ; 
But  with  seven-fold  armor  clad, 
Shall  the  true  and  valiant  smite, 
And  put  the  evil  powers  to  flight ; 
While  the  tidings,  swift  and  glad, 
Eing  through  all  the  realms  of  light 
Where  the  Church's  grand  procession 
From  her  holy  ranks  below 
Daily  swelled  in  calm  possession 


"  THE   COMMUNION   OF  SAINTS."  43 

Waits  the  final  overthrow 
Of  the  fierce  but  doomed  Foe. 

Not  with  open,  loud  assault 

.Draws  the  Adversary  near  ; 

Oft  advancing  seems  to  halt, 

Now  through  flattery,  now  through  fear  ; 

Under  cover  of  the  night 

Darkness  makes  he  fair  as  light ; 

Now  through  pomp  and  now  through  pride 

Lures  he  many  a  soul  aside ; 

Now  through  ease  he  whispereth, 

Every  word  a  shaft  of  death ; 

Through  the  flesh  unceasingly 

Do  his  secret  arrows  fly ; 

In  the  heart  he  refuge  takes, 

And  his  strongest  stronghold  makes. 

Watch  and  pray,  the  Church  entreats, 

And  those  chiefest  names  repeats 

Of  the  Army  of  the  Lord, 

Us  examples  to  afford. 

Watch  and  pray,  the  Church  entreats ; 

Stand  ye  fast  and  he  ye  strong ; 

Imitate  my  glorious  throng. 

They  my  firm  foundations  made, 

Christ  Himself  the  corner-stone ; 

Ye  as  living  stones  are  laid, 

Age  by  age  and  one  by  one, 


44  "  THE   COMMUNION   OF  SAINTS." 

Pledged  the  Faith  to  keepj  thereon. 

Joined  together  each  and  all 

As  a  temple  mystical, 

Let  your  holy  unity 

Mirror  each  and  each  the  whole, 

While  the  waves  that  round  you  roll 

Of  unbelief  and  heresy 

Vainly  my  foundations  try. 

Watch  and  pray,  my  children,  saith 

Holy  Church.     Be  true  till  death 

To  the  once-delivered  Faith  ; 

With  each  other  one,  and  one 

With  the  hosts  whose  toil  is  done, . 

All  my  faithful  souls  and  true 

Who  have  passed  heyond  your  sight! 

Let  their  ardor  quicken  you 

As  ye  press  toward  realms  of  light, 

Where  in  Paradise  they  wait, 

While  the  angel-guarded  gate 

Ceaseless  swings,  to  usher  in 

Souls  redeemed  from  death  and  sin. 

Ever  through  that  viewless  door 

One  unhroken  throng  they  pour,  — 

One  unbroken,  moving  column 

Through  that  entrance  sweet  and  solemn, 

Night  and  day,  and  day  and  night, 

From  the  shadow  to  the  light ; 

From  the  cross  that  each  lays  down 


"THE  COMMUNION  OF  SAINTS."  45 

To  the  "  passionless  renown," 

Kobe  of  white,  and  palm,  and  crown. 

Night  and  day,  and  day  and  night, 

Countless  souls  in  grand  procession, 

One  in  Faith's  sublime  confession 

With  the  lesser  ranks  below 

Moving  still  against  the  Foe ; 

One  in  Hope  no  change  can  blight, 

Linked  in  mutual  intercession  ; 

One  in  Love's  eternal  might, 

Knit  together  each  with  all 

In  His  Body  mystical ; 

One  in  Christ  the  Living  Head, 

Of  whose  Life  ye  all  partake, 

By  whose  grace  ye  all  are  fed 

And  the  one  Communion  make. 

Ye  my  little  ones  and  lowly, 

Hid  on  earth  in  mean  disguise, 

One  with  all  my  martyrs  holy, 

Spotless  robed  in  Paradise. 

Ye  who  in  the  thick  of  striving 

Fight  my  battles  undismayed, 

By  the  proud  world's  proud  contriving 

Of  no  reputation  made, 

One  with  them,  the  virgin  throng, 

Singing  now  the  Lamb's  New  Song. 

Ye  who  suffer  all  temptation, 

Sin's  assaults  and  tribulation, 

Overcoming  all  unseen, 


46  "  THE   COMMUNION  OF  SAINTS." 

One  with  my  Confessors  brave 
Who  have  passed  to  realms  serene, 
Where  the  palms  of  victory  wave. 
There  the  first  Apostles  grand, 
Chiefest-crowned,  a  glorious  band, 
There  the  angels  bright  that  gather 
All  the  saints  of  God  around, 
With  the  ever-blessed  Mother 
Over  all  my  hosts  renowned. 
Welcome  each  and  each  the  other 
As  the  tide  of  souls  rolls  in, 
And  the  songs  anew  begin 
That  forever  shall  resound  : 
Glory,  honor,  power,  blessing, 
Wisdom,  might,  and  praise  unceasing 
To  the  King  of  kings  addressing, 
Toward  whose  Kingdom  still  increasing 
Earth's  remotest  ends  are  pressing. 


HYMN  FOR  THE  HOLY  COMMUNION. 


A  T  this  Thy  banquet,  Lord  of  all, 
^*-     May  less  than  angel  dare  to  sup  ? 
The  crumbs  that  from  Thy  Table  fall 
Unworthy  we  to  gather  up. 

Yet,  oh,  too  poor  to  turn  away, 

Too  glad  to  own  Thy  gracious  claim, 

We  stay  because  Thou  bid'st  us  stay 
Despite  our  garb  of  want  and  shame  ! 

Before  Thine  Altar  kneeling  low 
We  bare  our  sinful  hands  to  Thine  ; 

O  Holy  Lord,  Thy  pity  show 

And  cleanse  us  with  Thy  touch  Divine. 


Thou  these  empty  palms  with  food, 
The  Bread  Thou  givest  from  above  ; 
This  cup  with  Thy  most  precious  Blood, 
The  wine  of  Thy  atoning  love. 

The  hunger  and  the  thirst  we  plead 
No  meaner  feast  could  satisfy  ; 

0  Saviour,  in  our  utter  need 

Thou,  Thou  must  feed  us  or  we  die. 

47 


THE   COMMUNION   OF   THE   SICK. 

INSCRIBED    TO    H.  E.  H. 

PKIEST  beloved !  a  favored  guest, 

Bidden  of  thee,  how  oft  I  kneel 
Where  some  poor  sufferer  distressed 
Looks  to  thy  hand  to  soothe  and  heal ! 

His  sacramental  coming  there 

God's  messenger  of  pain  precedes, 

The  shadowed  chamber  to  prepare, 
And  fit  it  for  the  Master's  needs. 

"  Arise  and  walk,"  thou  dost  not  say, 
But  thou  the  Bread  of  Life  dost  break 

To  strengthen  souls  upon  their  way, 
Their  thirst  with  Wine  immortal  slake. 

The  humble  table  by  the  bed, 

Followed  sometimes  by  dying  eyes, 

How  often  have  I  seen  thee  spread, 
And  offer  there  the  sacrifice. 

How  often  from  thy  reverent  hands 
Received  the  Manna  veiled  from  view ; 

Then  by  the  sick  one  seen  thee  stand 
And  feed  him  with  that  Manna  true. 

48 


THE  COMMUNION  OF  THE  SICK.  49 

How  often  when  the  gracious  Cup  r 
From  me  has  passed,  have  I  beheld 

Thee  lift  the  weary  sufferer  up 

To  drink  the  hidden  stream  that  welled  ! 

How  often  have  I  seen  the  face 

Beneath  thy  blessing  brighter  grow 

When  the  poor  soul  received  the  peace 
Thou  art  commissioned  to  bestow ! 

And  ever  springs  this  thought  of  mine  : 
Jesus,  how  gracious  Thou  to  come 

Not  only  to  Thy  temple's  shrine 
But  even  to  the  meanest  home ! 

And  who  am  I,  that  unto  me 
Occasions  fall  that  others  miss  ? 

But,  Lord,  my  need  is  known  to  Thee  ; 
Thy  answer  must  be  hid  in  this  ! 

O  priest  beloved  !  to  Him  I  owe 
For  these  unwonted  hours  of  grace 

Such  love  as  deeds  can  never  show ; 
Pray  that  my  love  may  grow  apace  ! 

To  follow  on  thy  lowly  rounds, 
Oh,  pray  that  I  may  worthier  be, 

And  where  Christ's  suffering  ones  are  found 
Still,  for  His  sake,  make  room  for  me. 


52  INTERRUPTED  ZEAL. 

And  quicken  Thou  my  inward  ear 
That  I  like  her  Thy  Word  may  hear 
In  inward  silence  that  shall  drown 
All  voices  other  than  Thine  own. 

The  soul  that  seeks  no  end  but  this 
The  end  of  zeal  can  never  miss, 
But  even  amidst  her  toil  shall  be 
In  holy  solitude  with  Thee. 


A  HYMN  OF  ADORATION. 

JESUS,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
High  and  lowly  Son ; 
Son  of  blessed  Mary 

And  of  God  in  one ; 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Hail,  O  Son ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Living  Bread  Divine, 

Feast  for  holy  hunger, 
Be  that  hunger  mine ; 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

•    Bread  Divine ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Fount  forever  filled, 

In  Thy  streams  of  mercy 
Shall  my  thirst  be  stilled. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Fount  once  filled ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Spotless  Lamb  once  slain, 
Yet  for  us  unceasing 

Offered  again ; 

53 


A  HYMN  OF  ADORATION. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Lamb  once  slain ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Victim,  Priest,  and  Lord ; 
Endless  satisfaction 

Endlessly  adored ; 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Saviour,  Lord ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Name  of  names  most  sweet 
Tremble  with  thanksgiving, 

Tongue  that  may  repeat  — 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Name  most  sweet. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
God  of  God  art  Thou ; 

Low  in  adoration 

At  Thy  Name  we  bow ; 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
God  art  Thou ! 

Father,  Son,  and  Spirit, 
Blessed  Three  in  One 

Whose  unending  praises 
Never  were  begun ; 

Holy,  Holy,  Holy, 
Three  in  One ! 


"GIVE   US   THIS  DAY  OUK  DAILY 
BBEAD." 


longing  fills  my  heart  that  else 
With  earthly  cravings  would  o'erflow  ; 
One  pure  desiue  within  me  dwells 

Amid  desires  I  would  forego  ; 
One  longing  deep  that  day  by  day 
Sweeps  every  lesser  wish  away. 

It  is  not  that  I  choose  no  more 
Between  the  shadow  and  the  sun  ; 

That  vanities  no  longer  lure  ; 

That  sweet  and  bitter  are  as  one  ; 

But  that  this  longing  day  by  day 

Sweeps  every  lesser  wish  away. 

If  now  I  triumph,  now  I  fail, 
Or  now  attain  an  inward  peace, 

If  now  temptations  sore  assail, 

All  things  this  longing  but  increase  ; 

And  oh  !  this  longing  day  by  day 

All  gains,  all  losses  doth  outweigh. 

55 


56        "GIVE  US  THIS  DAY  OUR  DAILY  BREAD." 

It  is  for  Thee,  for  Thee  alone, 

Who  art  beyond  all  language  dear; 

In  life,  in  death,  Thou  only  One 

Who  stoopest  low,  who  drawest  near ; 

For  Thee  I  hunger  day  by  day, 

And  pray  the  more  the  more  I  pray. 

Come,  Daily  Bread  of  gracious  taste ; 

Sweet  Manna  endlessly  supplied ; 
Thou  hidden  Joy  that  cannot  waste ; 

Our  Wayside  Strength,  .however  tried ; 
Come,  Blessed  Jesus,  day  by  day, 
Lest  we  should  faint  beside  the  way ! 

Come,  God  and  Saviour,  to  Thine  own ; 

Revealed  to  Faith's  anointed  eyes, 
Make  Thou  Thy  very  Presence  known 

Though  veiled  in  holy  mysteries ; 
And  oh  !  —  the  sum  of  all  I  pray  — 
Sweep  Thou  at  last  the  veil  away ! 


"ANIMA  CHBISTI." 

A   PARAPHRASE. 

OOUL  of  Christ,  unscathed  by  sin, 

^     Touch  me;  make  me  white  within! 

Sacred  Body,  mangled,  slain, 

Save  me ;  suffer  not  in  vain  ! 

Blood  of  Christ,  my  "  drink  indeed," 

Stay  me ;  on  thy  strength  I  feed ! 

Water  from  that  riven  side, 

Wash  me ;  wash  me,  cleansing  tide ! 

Holy  wounds,  my  entrance  win ; 

Sweetest  place  to  hide  me  in  ! 

Broken  heart,  my  fortress  be 

When  the  foe  oppresseth  me  ! 

When  at  last  I  yield  my  breath, 

Jesus,  bid  me  rise  from  death  ! 

With  Thy  saints,  a  countless  throng, 

Let  me  sing  the  endless  song  j 

Ever  and  forevermore 

Love  and  laud  Thee  and  adore ! 


57 


HIS   EEST. 

is  the  world  wherein  we  dwell, 
And  day  and  night 
Crown  miracle  with  miracle 
Of  new  delight ; 
Almost  it  seems 
A  world  of  dreams. 


But,  oh !  the  World  of  worlds  that  lies 

This  world  outside, 
Whose  splendors  to  these  human  eyes 

Are  yet  denied, 

And  seer  and  saint 

Have  failed  to  paint ! 


Eye  hath  not  seen,"  our  tongues  repeat, 

In  rapt  belief, 
When  earth  blooms  fairest  round  our  feet, 

And  sin  and  grief 

Withhold  their  power 

Some  little  hour. 
58 


HIS  REST.  59 

But  when  the  heart  grows  sick  with  pain, 

The  burden  sore, 
And  all  our  labor  seems  in  vain, 

And  o'er  and  o'er 

The  sin  we  fight 

Returns  with  might ; 


When  loss  and  sickness  touch  us  close, 

And  death  draws  near 
To  take  not  us,  perhaps,  but  those 

Than  self  more  dear ; 

When  some  swift  blow 

Doth  lay  us  low ; 

Or  long  discouragement  or  strife 

Doth  wear  away 
The  ardor  and  the  joy  of  life, 

Do  what  we  may ; 

And  many  woes 

Our  doubts  disclose  — 


Far  more  than  glories  unconceived 
Beyond  the  grave, 

His  rest  in  whom  we  have  believed 
Is  what  we  crave : 
By  night  and  day 
For  rest  we  pray. 


60  HIS  REST. 

O  blessed  world !  we  cry,  uncrossed 

By  grief  or  sin, 
How  will  these  souls  now  tempted,  tossed, 

Rejoice  to  win 

Those  shores  that  shine 

With  peace  divine ! 


Jesus,  most  tried,  most  tempted  One, 

Dear  sinless  Lord, 
What  toil  was  Thine  beneath  the  sun ! 

By  scourge  and  cord, 

And  bitter  food, 

And  cruel  rood, 


That  Heavenly  Eest  for  us  was  bought ; 

And,  oh  !  that  we 
Might  count  our  light  affliction  nought 

In  following  Thee, 

And  here  below 

Its  sweetness  know ! 


That  sweetness,  dearest  Lord,  at  least 
One  hour  may  bring, 

When  to  Thy  Presence  in  the  Feast 
Divine  we  cling, 
And  wondrously 
Commune  with  Thee ! 


HIS  REST.  61 

0  precious  foretaste,  Heaven  brought  near, 

Within  our  reach, 
When,  though  no  glory  doth  appear 

Surpassing  speech, 

The  soul  oppressed 

Finds  here  Thy  Kest ! 


ADVENT   SONG  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 


"\X7EAEY  ?     Nay,  not  weary  yet ; 

He  will  come. 
Promising,  can  He  forget  ? 

Oh,  He  will  come  ! 
Counting  not  the  days  or  years, 
Wait  we  till  our  Lord  appears. 


Everywhere  we  know  is  strife  — 

He  will  come  !  — 
Angry  clash  of  life  with  life ; 

But  He  will  come,  — 
He  whose  kingdom  is  of  peace ; 
Peace  must  conquer,  hate  must  cease. 

Powers  must  tremble ;  swords  must  fail ; 

He  will  come ; 
Then  can  hell  itself  prevail 

When  He  is  come  ? 
Darkness  reigns,  but  He  is  Light  — 
He  who  shall  all  darkness  smite. 
62 


ADVENT  SONG   OF  THE  FAITHFUL.         63 

In  His  love  our  lives  we  hide  — 

He  will  come ; 
By  His  promises  abide, 

For  He  will  come. 
Our  inheritance  is  sure  ; 
Marvel  ye  that  we  endure  ? 

Watch  ye  all  beneath  the  sun  — 

He  will  come  !  — 
Winning  what  ye  ne'er  have  won 

When  He  shall  come ; 
Better  things  than  life  hath  brought, 
Greater  things  than  time  hath  wrought. 

Life  and  time  will  fleet  away ; 

He  will  come ; 
Then  your  nay  must  still  be  nay 

When  He  is  come  ; 
Till  that  day  He  intercedes  ; 
Still  as  on  His  cross  He  pleads. 

Watch !  and  if  the  hours  seem  long 

Till  He  come, 
Sing  with  us  Faith's  perfect  song : 

"  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! " 
Sweet,  oh,  sweet  the  time  if  we 
Watching,  faithful  grow  as  He ! 


THE  ANNUNCIATION. 

(MARCH  25TH.) 

MAKY,  Maid  of  Nazareth, 

Who  hearest  with  suspended  breath 
The  message  mighty  Gabriel 
Brings  to  thy  lowly  virgin  cell ; 

In  silence  and  in  solitude 
Where  saint  nor  seraph  dare  intrude, 
Thou,  truest  handmaid  of  the  Lord. 
Dost  hearken  and  receive  the  Word. 

Then  swiftly,  but  with  awe-winged  feet, 
Thou  goest  forth  from  thy  retreat 
To  her  whose  salutation  still 
Thrills  Hebron's  vale  from  hill  to  hill. 

There  first  thy  wonder  turns  to  song 
That  all  the  ages  shall  prolong 
Beyond  the  untold  bounds  of  time, 
In  its  humility  sublime. 

With  God's  supremest  favor  crowned, 
Pursuing  still  thy  daily  round 
Of  simple  duties  simply  done, 
Thou  dost  await  the  promised  Son. 
64 


THE  ANNUNCIATION.  65 

Dear  Mother  of  the  Lord's  own  choice, 
He  comes  in  whom  thou  dost  "rejoice,"  — 
Thy  Saviour  and  thy  God,  to  be 
liocked  as  thy  Babe  upon  thy  knee. 

0  Mary,  Maid  of  Nazareth, 

Not  only  hath  Elizabeth 

Proclaimed  thee  "blessed;"  from  that  day 

"All  generations"  "blessed"  say. 

Yea,  blessed  as  the  instrument 
Of  the  Almighty's  vast  intent ; 
And  blessed  in  the  purity 
Wherewith  His  grace  invested  thee ; 

Blessed  in  meek  obedience 
That  bowed  to  His  omnipotence ; 
Blessed  in  thy  surrendered  will ; 
In  perfect  faith  more  blessed  still ; 

Blessed  in  thy  humility 
That  cast  all  earthly  honors  by  — 
The  lofty  pride  of  David's  line  — 
To  worship  at  thy  Saviour's  shrine. 

Blessed  of  all  His  creatures  thou 
Whom  with  such  grace  He  did  endow 
That  all  thy  earthly  life  was  spent 
Like  one  unbroken  sacrament. 


66  THE  ANNUNCIATION. 

Turn  we,  O  Mary,  from  thy  face 
To  praise  Him  for  that  wondrous  grace, 
And  crave  humility  like  thine 
Obedient  to  the  Will  Divine. 

The  least  in  all  Thy  Kingdom,  Lord,  — 
It  is  Thy  own,  Thy  very  word  !  — 
The  least  may  do  Thy  will,  and  be 
Like  her  a  follower  of  Thee. 

Too  wonderful  it  seems,  indeed ; 
Thy  Mother  all  Thy  saints  doth  lead ; 
Can  such  as  we  a  place  attain 
In  the  long  splendor  of  that  train  ? 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS. 


THE   NATIVITY. 

"DENEATH  the   dark   expectant  skies,  while 

•"•"^      crowded  Bethlehem  slept, 

Their  sleeping  flocks  in  quiet  fields  the  faithful 

shepherds  kept, 
When  round  about  them,  suddenly,  there  shone  a 

glorious  light, 
And  in  the  midst  an  Angel  stood,  majestical  and 

bright. 

What  mortal  eye  could  look  un dazed  !  what  mortal 

ear  could  hear 
The  voice  most  sweet,  most  terrible  in  sweetness, 

without  fear ! 
While  on  the  wide  Judean  hills  the  reverent  winds 

were  stayed, 
Prostrate  the  humble  shepherds  fell,  for  they  were 

sore  afraid. 

"  Fear  not ;  behold,  I  bring  you  joy  ! "  the  Angel 

spake  and  smiled ; 
"To  you  this  day  in  David's   town  is  born  the 

promised  Child ; 

69 


70  CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS. 

A  Saviour,  even  Christ  the  Lord,  and  this  shall  be 

the  sign  — 
Ye  in  a  manger  lowly  laid  shall  find  the  Babe 

Divine." 


And  with  the  Angel,  lo !  a  host  of  shining  ones 

was  seen, 
Chanting,  "All  glory  be  to  God,  as  it  hath  ever 

been ; 
Glory  to  God,  on  earth  be  peace,  and  unto  men 

good-will," 
They  sang,  in  splendor  vanishing,  and  all   grew 

dark  and  still. 


Amazed  the  shepherds  heard,  and  rose  and  made 

with  haste  their  way 
To  where,  within   the   stable   walls,  the  world's 

Redeemer  lay; 
Nor  wider  space  nor  fairer   place   had  earth   to 

spare  for  Him 
Whose   Throne   from    everlasting   burned,   rayed 

round  with  seraphim. 

While  softly  raining  out  of  heaven,  in  silver 
cadences 

Flowed  down  those  sweet  angelic  strains  pro- 
claiming joy  and  peace ; 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND  CAROLS.  71 

Her  rapture  swelling  into  tears,  the  trembling 
Mother  bent 

Above  her  Child,  her  Holy  One,  in  awe  and  won- 
derment. 


And  if  a  cloud  of  radiance  filled  the  consecrated 

place, 
That  cloud  was  darkness  in  her  eyes,  long-dwelling 

on  His  face ; 
Her  tranced  vision   scarce  withdrawn  when  the 

glad  shepherds  came, 
Beheld  the  Babe  and  glorified  the  One  Eternal 

Name. 


And  was  the  Word,  indeed,  made  flesh  ?  0  Ever- 
lasting Lord ! 

0  Prince  of  Peace  !  0  Mighty  God,  forevermore 
adored  ! 

Who  reckoning  unreckoned  bliss  cast  all  His 
glory  by 

When  from  the  prison-house  of  sin  He  heard  the 
captive  cry  ! 

0  Love,  that  no  created  love  can  ever  compre- 
hend, 

Outreaching  life's  dark  uttermost,  bounding  the 
endless  end ; 


72  CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND  CAROLS. 

That  condescended  to  the  low  from  Height  above 

all  height, 
And  bosomed  in  a  blameless  Babe  brought  into 

darkness  light ! 


Wherever  Christmas  bells  shall  chime  and  Christ- 
mas cheer  go  round, 

Be  grateful  joy  —  not  heedless  mirth  —  in  every 
dwelling  found ; 

While  Faith  unveils  her  throbbing  breast  and 
closelier  folds  within 

The  Holy  Child  whose  sinlessness  hath  answered 
once  for  sin. 


The  humblest  home  that  He  may  find,  the  poorest 

heart  of  earth, 
Not  meaner  is  than  Bethlehem's  stall  made  fair 

by  Jesus'  birth ; 
And  light  more  marvellous  shall  stream  into  that 

house  of  clay, 
Abiding  and   abounding   more   unto  the  perfect 

day. 

Comfort    to    answer   all    desire    and    soothe    the 

sharpest  pain, 
A   rest   to   weariness,   and   ease   to   such    as    do 

complain, 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND  CAROLS.  73 

Bread  to  the  hungry,  and  to  them  that  thirst  a 

living  well, 
The   Saviour  with  His  neediest  ones  doth   most 

delight  to  dwell. 


He  honoreth  not  the  place  of  pride,  but  seekcth 

lowly  doors, 
And  love,  the  sweet  return  of  love,  is  all  that  He 

implores ; 
The  love  that  waiting  on  His  word  doth  evermore 

increase, 
And   magnify  in  daily  life  the  angels'   song   of 

peace. 

Wherever  Christmas  greetings  flow  and  Christmas 

cheer  goes  round, 
Let  charity  in  gracious  deeds  and  gracious  thoughts 

abound  ; 
And  Zion,  garlanding  her  gates,  put  on  her  glad 

array, 
And  celebrate  with  psalms  of  joy  Emmanuel's  natal 

day. 

0  Christ,  Most  High  ! '  Incarnate  God !  Meek  Babe 

of  Bethlehem ! 
To  whom  all  angels  cry  aloud,  Thy  glory  shadowing 

them, 


74  CHRISTMAS   POEMS  AND    CAROLS. 

Hear,  through  the  praise  of  heaven,  the  praise  of 

Thy  redeemed  earth 
Whose   desert   places   yet   shall    sing  for   joy  of 

Jesus'  birth ! 


"CHEIST  IS  BOKN  OF  BLESSED  MABY." 

HEIST  is  born  of  Blessed  Mary  ! 
Sing  the  wondrous  Life  begun  ! 
Man  Divine  and  God  Incarnate  ! 

Israel,  lo  !  thy  Holy  One  ! 
Now  fulfilled  the  Prophet's  vision  ! 

See  the  Child,  the  Lord  of  all, 
Stript,  indeed,  of  Heavenly  splendor, 
Choosing  for  His  couch  a  stall. 
Hail,  Messiah,  Hail ! 
All  Hail ! 

Thou,  0  Israel's  God  and  Saviour, 

Verily  Thyself  dost  hide ; 
Clad  in  flesh,  disguised  in  weakness, 

All  Thou  hast  by  earth  supplied. 
Very  God  from  everlasting 

As  a  helpless  Babe  revealed, 
Mary's  breast  Thy  transient  pillow, 
Mary's  arms  Thy  only  shield  ! 

Hail,  Emmanuel,  Hail ! 
All  Hail ! 

75 


76  CHRISTMAS   POEMS   AND    CAROLS. 

Wonderful  the  Seer  proclaimed  Thee, 

Mighty  God,  and  Prince  of  Peace, 
King  whose  everlasting  Kingdom 

Shall  forevermore  increase ! 
Yet  no  royal  sign  or  title 

Could  Thy  boundless  grace  declare 
Like  that  Name  of  endless  sweetness 

Thou  for  us  alone  dost  bear. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Hail ! 
All  Hail ! 

Jesus !  —  Saviour  of  His  People ! 

Jesus  !  —  Shepherd  of  His  Flock ! 
Well  of  Life,  and  Hidden  Manna ; 

Wayside  Strength,  and  Tower  of  Rock, 
Jesus,  see  Thy  Church  adoring 

Prostrate  at  Thine  infant  feet, 
Her  Redeemer's  praise  outpouring 

In  that  Name  of  Names  most  sweet ! 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Hail ! 
All  Hail ! 


"KING,    SWEET    BELLS    OF    CHRIS- 
TENDOM." 

T3  ING,  sweet  bells  of  Christendom, 
•""^"     Everywhere  the  tidings  tell 
How  the  Lord  to  earth  did  come  — 
King  and  tell ! 

Swift  to  seek  and  save  the  lost, 
More  than  merciful  He  came  ; 
Glad  to  pay  life's  hitter  cost 
Jesus  came. 

Prince  of  Peace,  the  Heavenly  King, 

As  a  mortal  hahe  disguised 
He  appeared  whom  angels  sing  — 
Earth-disguised. 

Love  Divine  in  human  frame, 

Of  the  lowly  lowliest  He ; 
Stript  of  glory,  in  His  shame 
Gloried  He. 

Empty-handed  from  His  birth, 

Gifts  exceeding  price  He  brought ; 
Treasures  hidden  not  in  earth 
Jesus  brought. 

77 


78  CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND  CAROLS. 

To  the  blind,  unclouded  sight ; 

To  the  dumb,  the  voice  of  praise ; 
And  to  all  in  darkness,  light  — 
Joy  and  praise. 

To  the  poor,  the  Gospel's  wealth ; 

To  the  rich,  the  spirit  poor ; 
And  to  all  His  saving  health  — 
Rich  and  poor. 

To  the  heavy-laden,  rest ; 

To  the  mourner,  words  of  life ; 
And  to  all  —  the  last  and  best  — 
Endless  life. 

In  the  perfect  path  He  trod, 

Still  His  footprints  mark  the  way ; 
Out  to  men  and  up  to  God 
Show  the  way. 

Out  to  men  in  love  that  breaks 

Bread  of  charity  with  all, 
And  —  thrice  blessed  then  !  —  forsakes 
Self  for  all. 

Up  to  God  in  deeds  like  prayers, 

In  obedience  to  Him, 
And  in  faith  —  love's  altar-stairs 
Beared  to  Him. 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS. 

King,  sweet  bells  of  Christendom, 

Far  and  near  the  tidings  tell 
How  the  Lord  to  earth  did  come  — 
King  and  tell ! 

Join,  good  Christians,  east  and  west, 

In  Emmanuel's  endless  praise, 
And  with  deeds  of  mercy  best 
Show  His  praise  I 

Still  the  Christmas  angels  sing  : 

"Glory  be  to  God  Most  High  ! " 
The  eternal  echoes  ring  : 

"God  Most  High!" 

Lift  your  songs  in  unison  : 

"  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men  ! 
Mingle  song  and  life  in  one 
Wide  "Amen!" 


79 


"GLORIA  IN  EXCELSIS." 


QLORIA  in  Excelsis  ! 

Ring  the  children's  voices ; 
Full  of  happy  wonder 

Heart  with  heart  rejoices ; 
For  the  Christ-Child  comes  to-day 
With  the  babes  of  earth  to  play ; 

Comes,  the  Son  of  Mary. 

Gloria  in  Excelsis  ! 

Murmur  tearful  voices ; 
Yea,  despite  its  sorrow 

Yet  the  earth  rejoices  ; 
For  the  Christ-Child's  holy  face 
Sweetest  shines  in  saddest  place ; 

Gracious  Son  of  Mary  ! 

Gloria  in  Excelsis  ! 

Chime  the  thankful  voices  ; 
Once  a  year  the  poor  man 

At  his  hearth  rejoices ; 
For  the  Christ-Child  comes  to  throw 
Hound  that  hearth  a  tender  glow ; 

Lowly  Son  of  Mary  ! 

80 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND  CAROLS.  81 

Gloria  in  Excelsis  ! 

Chant  adoring  voices ; 
Round  the  sacred  Altar 

Heaven  with  earth  rejoices ; 
Men  and  angels  carolling 
Crown  the  Christ-Child  Lord  and  King ; 

Crown  the  Son  of  Mary. 

Gloria  in  Excelsis  ! 

Who  but  hears  the  voices ! 
Swayed  by  mirth  so  holy 

All  that  lives  rejoices. 
Fast  indeed  the  door  must  be 
That  will  open  not  to  Thee, 

Jesus,  Son  of  Mary ! 


"WHILE  ALL  ABOUND  THE  HAPPY 
EAKTH." 

TO    H.    E.    H. 

HILE  all  around  the  happy  earth 

The  Christmas  bells  are  pealing  clear, 
And  countless  voices  carol  forth 
The  tidings  of  the  Christ-Child's  birth, 
I  know  your  heart  is  hushed  to  hear 
The  choir  of  angels  drawing  near, 
As  in  the  olden  time  descending 
To  sing  the  song  that  knows  no  ending : 
"Gloria  in  Excelsis." 

The  merry  tumult  of  the  time, 

The  gifts  poured  out,  the  greetings  sweet, 

The  Christmas  greens  in  fragrant  prime, 

The  happy  haste,  the  vocal  chime, 
As  friend  with  friend  together  meet, 
The  countless  sounds  of  hearth  and  street, 

All  in  your  thoughts  unconscious  blending 

Echo  the  song  that  knows  no  ending : 

"  Gloria  in  Excelsis" 
82 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS.  83 

So  touched  by  all,  yet  undelayed 

By  mirth  that  swayeth  to  and  fro, 
Through  paths  by  meditation  made 
More  fair  than  fairest  sylvan  shade, 
I  know  to  Bethlehem  even  now 
Straightway  in  holy  haste  you  go, 
And  o'er  the  Babe  in  worship  bending 
You  join  the  song  that  knows  no  ending : 
"  Gloria  in  Excelsis." 

0  priest  beloved  !  where  you  lead 
Could  your  poor  flock  but  follow  on, 

We,  too,  should  find  the  Lord  indeed ; 

No  longer  would  you  vainly  plead, 
But  every  soul  to  Him  be  won ; 
In  every  heart  His  reign  begun ; 

And  all  our  lives  with  your  life  blending 

Chime  evermore  the  song  Tinending: 
"Gloria  in  Excelsis." 


"THE   SWEETEST   HYMN   THAT   EVER 

WAS   SUNG." 

PHE  sweetest  hymn  that  ever  was  sung 

Was  the  Hymn  of  the  Christ-Child's  birth, 
When  that  night  of  nights  over  Bethlehem  hung, 
And  angels  came  thronging  to  earth 
To  herald  the  Christ-Child's  birth. 

The  brightest  star  that  ever  was  seen 
Was  the  Star  that  led  the  way 

For  the  wise  old  kings  to  the  cradle  mean 
Where  the  Child  EMMANUEL  lay,  — 
The  Star  that  showed  them  the  way. 

Still  sweetly  echoes  that  sweetest  Hymn 

Once  sung  in  the  ages  afar, 
And  over  the  wide  earth  altars  gleam 

Enkindled  by  Bethlehem's  Star 

That  led  the  sages  from  far. 

And  the  Christ  who  came  of  old  to  His  own 

As  truly  comes  to  them  now, 
Where  the  faithful  before  His  altar-throne 

With  hearts  believing  bow,  — 

EMMANUEL,  then  and  now. 
84 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS.  85 

0  Son  of  Mary  !  0  Love  Divine ! 

Whom  the  old  kings  hailed  as  King, 
All  praise  be  Thine,  and  the  fairest  shrine, 

And  the  costliest  gifts  we  can  bring 

To  Thee,  Eternity's  King  ! 

The  tribute-gold,  as  it  was  of  old, 
Poured  out,  dear  Lord,  at  Thy  feet, 

And  the  incense  of  worship  that  will  not  grow  cold, 
And  the  myrrh  of  penitence  meet, 
All  cast  with  ourselves  at  Thy  feet ! 


MAEY  MOTHER 

TV/T  ORE  than  royal  Guest  He  lay 

•  •*•      Where  the  gentle  kine  made  way 
For  the  Christ-Child  meek  as  they. 

Knelt  the  Magi  round  His  bed, 
Bowed  low  each  proudest  head ; 
Mary  Mother  pondered. 

Gold  and  frankincense  and  myrrh 
They  the  wise  and  great  confer ; 
Jesus  mild  looks  up  to  her ! 

What  her  gift  ?     Than  nothing  less  ! 
Oh  that  she  might  crown  and  bless 
Him  whom  kings  shall  King  confess  ! 

Pierced  as  with  woes  to  come 
At  His  feet  her  soul  lies  dumb, 
Love,  of  all  she  hath,  the  sum ! 

Blessed  among  women,  thou 
Who,  exalted  most,  dost  bow 
Lowliest  among  the  low ! 
86 


"ENDED  THE  VIGIL   OF  AGES." 

ENDED  the  vigil  of  ages, 
Ended  the  Prophets'  line ; 
Forth  from  the  womb  of  the  Virgin 
Cometh  the  Babe  Divine. 

Out  of  the  highest  Heaven 
Down  to  the  wondering  earth 

Choirs  of  angels  descending 
Carol  the  Christ-Child's  birth. 

One  with  the  Father  Eternal 

Human  the  Name  that  He  bears ; 

Godhead  and  Manhood  united 

Veiled  in  the  Flesh  that  He  wears. 

This  is  the  King  Immortal 
Nation  by  nation  shall  seek ; 

Never  a  child  so  majestic, 
Never  a  prince  so  meek. 

Clad  in  Humility's  vesture, 
Peace  as  His  sceptre  of  might, 

Monarchs  approaching  His  presence 
Prostrate  shall  fall  at  the  sight. 

87 


88  CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS. 

Innocence  wears  lie  as  ermine, 
Poverty  maketh  His  crown, 

Love  is  the  throne  of  His  glory, 
Mercy  His  matchless  renown. 

Homeless  and  laid  in  a  manger, 
Seeming  earth's  pity  to  crave, 

Ruleth  He  still  creation, 
Helpless,  is  mighty  to  save. 

Blessed  henceforth  are  the  lowly 
Who  of  His  lowliness  learn ; 

Blessed  who  showeth  His  mercy, 
Eeaping  His  mercy  in  turn. 

Blessed  henceforth  who  forsaketh 
Kindred  and  lands  for  His  sake, 

Counting  no  burden  too  grievous 
Jesus  may  call  him  to  take. 

Even  a  cup  of  cold  water 
Unto  His  little  ones  given 

He  shall  return  to  the  giver 

Filled  from  the  fountains  of  Heaven. 

Blessed  the  least  in  His  Kingdom 
More  than  the  Prophets  of  old 

Who  in  the  Babe  of  the  manger 
Saviour,  Jehovah  behold. 


CHR/STMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS.  89 

Fall  at  His  feet,  ye  faithful, 

Worship  the  King  of  Kings  ! 
Angels  unnumbered  adore  Him 

Folding  around  you  their  wings. 

Sweeter  and  sweeter  their  carols 

Swelling  with  rapture  arise ; 
Join  in  the  joyful  hosannas 

Circling  the  earth  and  the  skies ! 


"PEACE  AND  GOOD  WILL,  GOOD  WILL 
AND  PEACE.'7 

"  J3EACE  and  good  will,  good  will  and  peace  ! " 
•*•        Year  after  year  with  sweet  increase 

The  heavenly  carol  swells  : 
The  holy  tale  of  Jesu's  birth 
In  ever-widening  circles  earth 

With  tongues  unnumbered  tells. 

Once  more  the  vision  glorified 
Appears  with  blessed  Christmas-tide  — 

The  Virgin  full  of  grace ; 
And  in  her  arms  the  Child  Divine, 
The  God-Man  born  of  David's  line, 

New  head  of  Adam's  race. 

The  very  nature  that  we  wear, 

His  Godhead  veiled,  He  stoops  to  share 

In  great  humility ; 
And  angel  legions  round  Him  close 
And  tleaven  with  boundless  praise  o'erflows 

That  such  a  love  could  be. 
90 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS.  91 

But  neither  round  His  infant  brow 
The  crown  of  thorns  (pre-woven  now) 

Created  eyes  behold; 
Nor  in  those  infant  arms  that  reach 
In  mute  appeal,  in  lieu  of  speech, 

The  cross  those  arms  infold. 


Yet  crown  of  thorns  and  holy  rood 
(The  tree  of  life,  the  mystic  wood), 

His  spotless  sacrifice, 
His  anguish  and  His  triumph,  all 
Are  shadowed  here  in  Bethlehem's  stall 

Though  hidden  from  our  eyes. 


Here,  too,  begins  His  wondrous  reign ; 
Confessors,  martyrs,  lead  His  train 

Of  humble  souls  and  pure ; 
Not  of  this  world  His  Kingdom  is ; 
All  others  fade  away,  but  His 

Forever  shall  endure. 


His  sword  is  Truth,  His  armor  Love ; 
His  Spirit  as  a  tender  Dove 

Broods  o'er  this  troubled  life ; 
He  pities,  pardons,  strengthens,  feeds ; 
He  binds  the  breaking  heart  that  bleeds ; 

To  peace  transformeth  strife. 


92  CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS. 

Where'er  the  Marah  waters  spring 
Of  want  or  wrong  or  suffering 

And  men  of  Him  entreat, 
His  cross  all  crimsoned  with  His  blood 
He  casts  into  the  bitter  flood 

And  makes  those  waters  sweet. 

"Peace  and  good  will,  good  will  and  peace !" 
What  wonder  that  with  glad  increase 

The  heavenly  carol  swells  j 
And  on  the  story  of  His  birth 
In  ever-widening  circles  earth 

With  wondering  rapture  dwells ! 


THE  BLESSED   BABE. 

HP  HE  Child,  the  Promised  Child,  is  born ! 
-*-       "  Glad  tidings  "  to  a  world  forlorn ! 
Celestial  choirs  in  bright  array 
Descend  to  hail  His  natal  day. 

Oh,  come  and  see  the  wondrous  thing 
Whereof  the  Christmas  angels  sing  — 
The  Blessed  Babe  in  Mary's  arms, 
With  all  a  babe's  endearing  charms. 

In  unimagined  splendors  far 
Beyond  remotest  sun  or  star 
His  throne  uplifts,  yet  here  He  lies 
In  Bethlehem's  stall,  in  mean  disguise. 

Angelic  hosts  that  press  unseen, 
The  questioning  kine  with  instinct  keen, 
The  wondering  shepherds,  all  adore 
The  mystery  foretold  of  yore. 

Here  is  the  Virgin  undefiled ; 
Here  Israel's  Holy  One,  the  Child, 
Emmanuel,  whom  centuries 
Have  watched  for  with  prophetic  eyes. 

93 


94  CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS. 

His  Name  is  Wonderful,  we  read, 
The  Counsellor  in  all  our  need, 
The  Mighty  God,  the  Father  great, 
Created  things  to  re-create. 

And  more,  if  more  were  possible, 
The  Prince  of  Peace  His  work  shall  tell 
Who  comes  to  conquer  every  foe 
That  human  soul  can  ever  know. 

Yea,  more  —  the  Name  that  Gabriel  gave  - 
He  comes  as  Jesus,  strong  to  save ; 
The  matchless  depth,  the  matchless  height 
Of  Love  revealed  to  mortal  sight. 

0  weary  one,  whate'er  thy  name, 

0  penitent,  whate'er  thy  shame, 

0  ardent  soul,  0  mourner  sad, 

0  youth,  0  childhood,  strong  and  glad, 

Art  thou  of  high  or  low  degree, 
He  comes,  this  Blessed  Babe,  to  thee ; 
Receive  Him,  press  Him  to  thy  heart, 
And  in  this  cold  world  take  His  part ! 

In  this  cold  world  that  doth  but  play, 
Alas,  at  keeping  Christmas  Day ! 
Receive  Him,  press  Him  to  thy  heart, 
And  He  in  turn  will  take  thy  part ! 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS.          95 

In  His  unearthly  kingdom  share ; 
His  laws  obey ;  His  signet  wear  ; 
His  Living  Presence  taste,  and  see 
How  gracious  Christ  the  Lord  can  be ! 

Henceforth  temptation's  arrows  sore 
May  wound  but  poison  thee  no  more ; 
Nor  griefs  o'erwhelm,  nor  faith  grow  dim, 
Because  thy  heart  enshrineth  Him! 


A  CHRISTMAS   MEDITATION. 


OO  poor,  so  humble,  in  such  solitude, 
^     Amid  the  lowing  of  the  patient  kine, 
So  barely  sheltered  in  the  stable  rude 
We  find  Thee,  Babe  Divine ; 
0  Jesu !  sweetest  Jesu  ! 

Here  born  of  Virgin  Mother,  spotless  Maid, 

Who  folds  Thee  to  her  rapt,  adoring  breast, 
Thou  art  content  obscurely  to  be  laid 
By  the  proud  world  unguessed ; 
0  Jesu  !  sweetest  Jesu ! 

Though  hosts  seraphic  gird  Thy  Throne  on  high 

No  earthly  throngs  Thy  Holy  Birth  attend ; 
No  shouts  of  joy,  though  praises  fill  the  sky, 
Earth's  bitter  silence  rend ; 
0  Jesu  !  sweetest  Jesu  ! 

As  with  the  darkness  of  Thy  natal  night 
Thou  veilest  all  the  glory  of  Thy  Face ; 
Thou  who  art  God  of  God,  and  Light  of  Light, 
The  Fount  of  joy  and  grace ; 
O  Jesu !  sweetest  Jesu  ! 
96 


CHRISTMAS  POEMS  AND   CAROLS.  97 

This  want,  this  loneliness,  this  manger  bed 

That  hint  the  story  of  Thy  coming  woe 
When  Thou  wilt  have  nowhere  to  lay  Thy  he.ad, 
Thou  wiliest  even  so ; 
O  Jesu !  sweetest  Jesu  ! 

And  while  our  eyes  a  gathering  shadow  see  — 
The  shadow  of  Thy  cross  —  upon  Thee  fall, 
Thine  own  are  fixed  upon  our  crown  to  be 
And  nought  can  Thee  appall ; 
O  Jesu !  sweetest  Jesu ! 

Oh  that  these  tongues  Thy  love  could  fitly  sing ! 
These  hearts  with  praise  (as  Thine  with  anguish) 

break ! 

All  that  we  have  in  worship  would  we  bring 
For  Thy  dear  glory's  sake ; 
0  Jesu  !  sweetest  Jesu ! 


LENT    AND    EASTER. 


HYMNS  FOR  LENT. 


I. 


feasts  that  perish  turned  aside 
A  little  space, 
Oh,  be  the  flesh  indeed  denied  ; 
Our  souls  an-hungered  satisfied 
With  the  sweet  feast  of  grace  ! 

Thou  who  didst  fast  so  long,  so  sore, 

For  our  poor  sake,  — 
All  pangs  of  earth's  vast  hunger  bore, 
Ere  Thou  Thy  precious  Blood  didst  pour, 

Thy  blessed  Body  break  — 

0  Holy  Jesu  !  hear  our  cry, 

And  give  us  strength 
For  love  of  Thee  to  mortify 
The  love  of  self  till  self  shall  die, 

And  leave  us  Thine  at  length  ! 

101 


102  J.ENT  AND  EASTER. 

II. 

IN  the  lone  desert  of  my  own  despair, 

Eobed  in  the  sackcloth  of  unfriended  grief, 

With  tears  no  eyes  of  earthly  love  can  share, 
My  stricken  soul  implores  of  Heaven  relief. 

The  scorching  sand  beneath  my  naked  feet 

And  penitential  ashes  on  my  head, 
I  hear  a  Voice  that  calls  me,  heavenly  sweet, 

And  the  soft  coming  of  a  Stranger's  tread. 

Low  kneeling  in  abasement  I  can  feel 
A  hand  of  pit}r  gently  seeking  mine, 

A  breath  of  tender  mercy  o'er  me  steal 

From  Human  lips  whose  language  is  Divine. 

"  Arise  ! "  He  saith,  and  lo  !  His  word  doth  raise  ; 

"  Be  whole  ! "  He  saith,  and  lo  !  His  word  doth 

heal; 
Prostrate  again  I  fall,  but  now  in  praise : 

"  Lord,  at  Thy  feet  forever  let  me  kneel." 


HYMNS  FOE  GOOD  FRIDAY. 

I. 

!  see  Him  where  He  hangs, 
The  world's  one  sacrifice  ; 
No  tongue  of  earth  can  tell  His  pangs, 
Who  our  Redeemer  dies. 

True  God  and  truest  Man, 

In  one  forever  knit  ; 
His  anguish  thought  can  never  span, 

For  it  is  infinite. 

In  all  the  universe 

The  central  Figure  He, 
As  weeping  centuries  rehearse 

Time's  crowning  tragedy. 

Again  the  flood  of  scorn, 

The  scourge,  the  crown,  the  jeer, 
The  sacred  body  nailed  and  torn, 

The  taunts,  the  sponge,  the  spear. 

Again  —  0  depth,  0  height 

Of  Love  that  hath  no  name !  — 

The  prayer  for  those  who  in  His  sight 
Could  no  compassion  claim. 

103 


104  LENT  AND  EASTER. 

Again  the  rended  rocks, 
The  hearts  of  human  stone, 

The  darkness  and  the  earthquake  shocks, 
The  graves  of  hope  upthrown. 

At  His  dear  feet  again, 

His  Cross  in  her  embrace, 
The  weeping  Church,  like  Magdalen, 

Buries  her  stricken  face. 

Again  the  streaming  side, 

The  broken  heart,  the  cry ! 
Again,  0  Jesus  Crucified, 

The  endless  victory. 


n. 


0  SAD,  long-suffering  Face, 

How  can  I  look  and  live ! 
0  pierced  hands  outstretched  to  save ! 

O  Voice  that  cries  "  Forgive  "  ! 

"  Forgive,"  though  crowned  with  thorns, 
And  mocked  with  many  a  jeer; 

"  Forgive,"  though  tortured  by  the  nails 
And  wounded  by  the  spear. 


LENT  AND  EASTER.  105 

O  crimson  tide  of  love 

Outgushing  from  His  side, 
Flow  down  and  wash  the  guilty  earth 

Where  He  is  still  denied  ! 


In  penitence  my  soul 

Takes  up  that  cry,  "  Forgive ; " 
Flow  down  and  wash  away  my  sins, 

That  I  may  look  and  live. 


EASTER-EVEN  VIOLETS. 

E  Easter  Day,  0  Lilies  white, 
Your  shrined  splendors  keep  ! 
But  while  the  sweet,  sad,  waning  light 
Of  Easter-Even  fades, 
Amid  the  sacred  shades 
Where  Sorrow  comes  to  weep,  — 
Nor  weeps  in  vain 
Since  Hope  is  born  of  very  Pain 
(And  Pain  its  pangs  in  joy  forgets)  — 
There  breathe  your  balm,  sweet  Violets ! 
Dear  twilight-flowers  whose  lovely  hue, 
More  tender  than  the  tenderest  blue 
Yet  not  as  purple  sad,  appears 
Most  like  transformed  tears. 

"  A  little  while  !  "  ye  seem  to  sigh  ; 

"  And  yet  a  little  while  !  "  ye  say ; 

"  The  stone  shall  noiseless  roll  away  : 
Unseen  across  the  midnight  sky 

Twilight  and  Daybreak  run  to  meet ! 
Already  angels  throng  the  air, 
And  twain  descending  kneel, 

Veiled  in  awe,  at  head  and  feet 
106 


LENT  AND  EASTER.  107 

Of  that  new  tomb  whose  broken  seal 
The  wondering  Morning  shall  reveal, 

And  '  He  is  risen  ! '  declare. 

Sweet  odors  —  sweeter  than  the  sweet 
Of  violets  and  lilies  blent, 
The  sweet  of  holy  slumber  spent  — 

Stealing  from  vesture  folded  fair 

And  fragrant  with  the  Lord's  own  care, 
Wherein  His  Blessed  Body  lay 
Till  break  of  day, 
Shall  make  most  sweet  the  graves  of  those 

Who,  entering  into  Paradise, 
Do  sleep  in  Him  who  died  and  rose  — 

In  whom  they,  too,  shall  rise." 


EASTEE  DAY. 

IPvAWN  of  dawns,  the  Easter  Day 
*-**     Far  and  wide  in  splendor  breaks  ; 
Darkest  shadows  flee  away 
Where  it  breaks ! 

Veiled  in  its  vernal  light, 

Christ,  the  Light  of  Light,  arose ; 
From  the  grave's  unbroken  night 
He  arose. 

Though  beneath  the  Cross  He  fell, 
Though  upon  the  Cross  He  died, 
Led  He  captive  Death  and  Hell 
When  He  died. 

Overcome,  He  overcame ; 

Conquered,  more  than  Conqueror  lives ; 
Crowned  King  with  Heaven's  acclaim 
Jesus  lives ! 

Through  the  gates  of  sacrifice 

He,  the  Victim,  Victor  went ; 
Lo,  His  triumph  lights  the  skies 

Since  He  went ! 
108 


LENT  AND  EASTER.  109 

Darker  than  the  night  our  sin, 

Silent  as  the  tomb  our  life, 
Still  His  glory  enters  in  — 
Light  and  life. 

"  Rise  and  follow  Me/'  He  saith ; 

"Love  as  I  have  loved  you. 
Kise  to  life  that  I  through  death 
Won  for  you." 

Love  that  counts  not  sacrifice, 

Keeping  nothing  back  from  Him,  — 
To  such  love  must  we  arise, 
Following  Him. 

As  He  laid  His  garments  by 

With  the  bondage  of  the  grave, 
Clothed  in  Love's  own  Majesty 
Left  the  grave,  — 

Self,  the  earth's  most  earthy  dress, 

Must  we  cast  aside  like  Him, 
And  putting  on  His  righteousness 
Rise  with  Him. 

He  hath  rolled  the  stone  away 

Through  Redemption's  might  for  us, — 
Dawn  of  dawns,  the  Easter  Day 
Breaks  for  us ! 


EASTEE  CAEOLS. 


(~*  HEIST  is  risen  !     Christ  is  risen ! 
^-/     Conquered  Death  and  all  His  foes  ! 
Crucified  and  dead  and  buried, 

Very  Man  as  Man  He  rose. 
Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

He  for  us  the  Cross  endured, 
And  the  bitter  shame  despising 

Life,  immortal  Life  secured. 

Very  God  He  stooped  to  suffer 

Keenest  sorrows,  sharpest  pains  ; 
Very  Man  enthroned  in  glory 

Now  as  King  of  Kings  He  reigns. 
Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Blessed  they  who  follow  on ; 
Who  by  rack  or  sword  or  prison 

Share  the  crown  that  He  hath  won. 

Blessed  they  the  saints  and  martyrs 
Foremost  in  the  Church's  van, 

Virgin  souls  of  maid  and  matron, 
Babe  and  youth  and  hoary  man. 
130 


LENT  AND  EASTER.  HI 

Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Blessed  all  the  faithful  throng, 
Strong  in  Him  to  fight  and  conquer 

Pressing  still  His  way  along. 

Lift  the  Cross  to-day  in  triumph, 

Lift  His  wondrous  symbol  high  ; 
Standard  that  hath  led  its  legions 

On  to  holy  victory ! 
Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Once  of  death  and  shame  the  sign, 
Now  of  glory  never  equalled 

See  the  Cross  of  Jesus  shine  I 

Backward,  forward,  o'er  the  ages, 

How  its  rays  unearthly  stream ! 
From  eternity  its  splendors 

To  eternity  shall  gleam  ! 
Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Lift  the  matchless  symbol  high 
With  the  Resurrection's  glory 

Kindling  earth  and  sea  and  sky  ! 


II. 

WITH  flowers  we  crown  His  altar  fair, 
For  Christ's  own  morning  breaks, 

And  earth  of  Easter-tide  aware 
To  song  and  bloom  awakes. 


112          LENT  AND  EASTER. 

CHORUS. 

The  day  of  days  is  the  Easter  Day ; 
The  Church  puts  on  her  white  array ; 
For  Christ  hath  filled  the  very  tomb 
With  Easter  light  and  Easter  bloom  ! 

His  love  o'er  loveliest  things  of  earth 

Symbolic  beauty  throws ; 
The  Resurrection  shadows  forth 

In  every  flower  that  blows. 

CHORUS.     The  day  of  days,  etc. 

These  flowers  their  mission  sweet  fulfil 
And  in  their  sweetness  die ; 

But  Easter  hopes  unfolding  still 
Climb  flower-like  up  the  sky. 
CHORUS.     The  day  of  days,  etc. 

O  Easter  Day  that  yet  shall  be, 
Whose  splendors  shall  not  fail ; 

Thy  deathless  bloom  the  Church  shall  see 
Beyond  the  rended  veil ! 

CHORUS. 

The  day  of  days  is  the  Easter  Day ; 
The  Church  puts  on  her  white  array  j 
For  Christ  hath  filled  the  very  tomb 
With  Easter  light  and  Easter  bloom  ! 


THE  KESUBBECTION. 


'VT'E  who,  clad  in  shining  raiment, 

Watch  within  the  empty  tomb 
Where  the  dear  Lord's  sacred  Body 

Lay  in  death  through  yester's  gloom, 
Tell  us,  guests  from  realms  of  glory, 
All  the  Resurrection's  story  ! 

How  the  tide  of  life  returning 

Flushed  the  pierced  hands  and  feet ; 

How  the  Heart  so  lately  broken 
Once  again  began  to  beat ; 

How  the  Head  by  thorns  so  wounded 

Victory's  aureole  surrounded ! 


Tell  us,  glorious  one  whose  garment 
Gleameth  whiter  than  the  snow, 

And  whose  countenance  as  lightning 
Laid  the  watch,  like  dead  men,  low; 

Mightiest  one,  from  Heaven  descended, 

Tell  us  how  the  tomb  was  rended ! 

113 


114  LENT  AND  EASTER. 

How  the  seal  secure  was  broken 
Ere  the  dawning  of  the  day ; 

How  the  solid  earth  was  shaken 
When  the  stone  was  rolled  away ; 

While  the  world  unconscious  slumbered 

And  the  hours  of  death  were  numbered. 


Tell  —  but  oh,  no  tongue  can  utter 

What  transcendeth  speech  and  thought ! 

Passeth  angels'  comprehension 
How  the  miracle  was  wrought. 

He  was  dead ;  and  lo  !  He  liveth ; 

Yea,  and  Life  Eternal  giveth ! 


Forth  He  came  !  the  Human  Body 
He  for  man  the  fallen  wore, 

And  the  Human  Soul  united, 
Glorified  forevermore ; 

That  in  wondrous  re-creation 

Man  might  share  His  exaltation. 

While  He  fasted  in  the  desert, 
Tempted  long  and  sorely  tried, 

Prayed  in  anguish  in  the  Garden, 
On  the  Cross  in  anguish  died, 

Watching  with  her  Lord  and  weeping, 

Solemn  fast  the  Church  was  keeping. 


LENT  AND  EASTER.  115 

Feast  of  Feasts  the  Fast  succeedeth ! 

Once  again  the  strain  is  poured : 
Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Glory  to  the  risen  Lord ! 
Song  of  songs,  in  endless  gladness 
Drowning  pain  and  doubt  and  sadness. 

Alleluia  !     "  He  is  risen  ! " 

"  Risen  indeed  ! "  the  shouts  resound. 
Holy  greeting  answers  greeting ; 

Joy  at  last  on  earth  is  found. 
Shore  to  shore  the  salutations 
Bind  as  one  redeemed  nations. 

Alleluia!     Choirs  of  angels 

To  the  choirs  of  earth  respond ; 

Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Rolleth  seas  and  skies  beyond. 

Heaven  and  earth  at  last  shall  sever, 

But  the  song  shall  peal  forever ! 


A  BATTLE-CKY. 

HOLY  Cross  whose  sign  in  air 

Can  put  to  flight  our  ghostly  foes ; 
0  holy  Name,  but  breathed  in  prayer 

And  hell  is  powerless  to  oppose ; 
However  fierce  may  be  the  strife, 
Immortal  gain  our  mortal  loss ; 
By  you  we  win  Eternal  Life, 
0  holy  Name,  0  holy  Cross ! 

And  what  are  these  our  sharpest  wounds  ? 

Thy  wounds,  0  Lord,  their  balm  supply ; 
Our  woes  Thy  woe  unmeasured  drowns, 

And  Thine  shall  be  our  victory ! 
O  priceless  faith  that  dares  the  strife ! 

O  deathless  hope  that  spurns  the  loss ! 
By  you  we  win  Eternal  Life, 

O  holy  Name,  0  holy  Cross ! 
116 


THE  LADDER. 

TT^AST  and  vigil,  alms  and  prayer, 
•*•        These*the  penitential  stair 
Leading  slowly  day  by  day 
Up  the  toilsome  heavenward  way. 

Following  these  I  thought  to  be 
Always  near,  dear  Lord,  to  Thee ; 
Now  —  alas  !     Thou  knowest  all ; 
Fruitless  strife  and  frequent  fall ! 

Trust  of  self,  or  selfish  aim, 
Toil  unhallowed  by  Thy  Name, 
Envy,  pride,  —  oh,  make  me  know 
What  has  laid  Thy  servant  low ! 

By  this  same  unchanging  stair  — 
Fast  and  vigil,  alms  and  prayer  — 
Following  Thee  Thy  saints  have  passed 
To  victorious  peace  at  last. 

And  this  ladder  I  must  scale ; 
Nought  instead  will  me  avail ; 
Every  round  I  know  I  need, 
Though  my  feet  thereon  should  bleed. 

117 


118  THE  LADDER. 

None  the  less,  dear  Lord,  I  know, 
"Worse  than  vain  each  step  I  go 
If  Thou  art  not  at  my  side 
To  prevent,  uphold,  and  guide. 

Take  in  Thine  my  trembling  hand ; 
Give  me  grace  and  strength  to  stand ; 
Once  again  I  will  assay 
At  Thy  word  the  heavenward  way. 

Oh  for  courage  not  to  faint ! 
Oh  for  silence  from  complaint ! 
Oh  for  patience  to  forbear  ; 
Love  to  conquer ;  faith  to  dare  ! 

Stay  me,  Lord,  with  holy  fear ! 
Fill  me,  Lord,  with  holy  cheer ! 
Humbly  leaning  on  Thy  strength 
May  I  gain  the  end  at  length. 

Nought  I  can  do,  or  have  done ; 
If  I  win  't  is  Thou  hast  won  ; 
Putting  all  my  trust  in  Thee 
Now  my  ladder's  worth  I  see. 


"THOU  AET  A  PLACE  TO   HIDE 
ME  IN." 

T  X  7ITHOUT  I  hear  the  beating  of  the  rain, 
*  *     The  howling  winds  that  tell  the  storm's 

increase  ; 

0  covert  sure  that  he  who  seeks  may  gain !  — 
Within  abideth  peace  ! 

Without  I  hear  the  sound  of  feet  that  halt, 

And  grope  and  stumble  in  the  blinding  light ; 
0  blessed  faith  that  serveth  in  default 
Of  what  men  call  the  light ! 

O  rest,  0  wayside  inn,  where  home  is  not 

For  the  poor  pilgrim  to  that  city  fair 
Where  strife  shall  cease  and  doubtings  be  forgot ! 
The  Lamb,  the  Light  is  there ! 

119 


"I  WILL  NEVER  LEAVE  THEE,  NOK 
FORSAKE  THEE." 


TT  OW  patient  art  Thou,  dearest  Lord, 
*-  •*-     And  how  perverse  am  I ! 
Still  day  by  day  some  other  way 
To  win  me  Thou  dost  try. 

Now  under  skies  serenely  bright 

Thou  leadest  me  along, 
No  cloud  of  ill  my  hopes  to  chill 

Or  turn  to  sighs  my  song. 

And  now  Thou  sufferest  cruel  storms, 

Misfortune's  bitter  blast, 
To  lay  me  low  that  I  may  know 

Thy  shelter  o'er  me  cast. 

To-day  companionships  most  sweet 

To  every  hour  give  wings, 
And  morn  and  eve  such  visions  weave 

As  shadow  Heavenly  things. 
120 


"/   WILL  NEVER  LEAVE    THEE."          121 

The  visions  fade  ;  bereft,  cast  down, 

As  in  some  desert  waste 
Thou  leavest  me  that  unto  Thee 

My  lonely  heart  may  haste. 

The  awful  consciousness  of  sin 

Thou  makest  me  to  feel, 
The  sickness  dread  of  heart  and  head 

That  only  Thou  canst  heal. 

Thou  dost  oppress  me  till  I  fall 

Repentant  at  Thy  feet, 
That  on  Thy  breast  I  may  find  rest 

As  undeserved  as  sweet. 

Again,  to  meditation's  shade 

Thou  lurest  me  aside, 
And  truths  wouldst  teach  beyond  the  reach 

Of  any  human  guide,  — 

Soft  whispers  of  the  Spirit's  lore 

Whose  wisdom  saints  attain  ; 
But  soon  I  say,  "  Some  other  day  ! " 

And  turn  to  what  seems  plain. 

How  faithful  art  Thou,  dearest  Lord, 

But  oh,  how  faithless  I, 
That  o'er  and  o'er  and  more  and  more 

Thy  faithfulness  I  try  ! 


122          "/  WILL  NEVER  LEAVE   THEE.'1 

Oh,  were  Thy  sweet  commandments  writ 

In  this  inconstant  heart, 
It  could  not  be  that  I  from  Thee 

Should  ever  walk  apart ! 

That  I  should  leave  the  only  Friend 

Who  will  not  me  forsake, 
But  still  doth  plead,  and  plead,  and  plead, 

As  one  whose  heart  must  break  ! 

Strive  with  me  still,  0  Love  Supreme ; 

Supremest  Patience,  strive  ! 
Thou  hast  restored  the  lost,  dear  Lord, 

Hast  made  the  dead  alive ; 

And  nothing  is  impossible 

To  Thy  Almightiness 
Whose  glory  found  its  boundless  bound 

In  such  divine  redress. 

Thou  sure  must  win  me  in  the  end 

To  Thy  eternal  claim, 
Who  didst  create,  regenerate, 

And  call  me  by  Thy  Name. 

The  day  must  come,  the  blessed  day, 

When  I  updrawn  shall  be, 
And  on  the  Cross  count  all  things  loss, 

And  dying  live  to  Thee  ! 


QUICKEN   THOU  ME. 

HP  HE  thorn  is  budding  into  life  again, 
•*•       The  quickened  vine  puts  out  its  tender  shoots, 
The  warm,  warm  sunshine  and  the  cool,  cool  rain 
Feeding  their  hidden  roots. 

Sweet  Spirit,  entering  where  no  eye  can  see, 

Reach  this  poor  heart  in  all  its  waiting  need, 
And  like  the  thorn  and  vine  my  life  shall  be 
When  Thou  its  roots  dost  feed. 

123 


"THOUGH    HE  SLAY  ME,   YET  WILL  I 
TRUST  IN  HIM." 

by  trials  overborne, 
Baffled  where  I  strove  to  do, 
Not  the  way  I  would  have  gone 

Thou,  dear  Lord,  hast  led  me  through ; 
Yet,  believing,  I  can  say, 
It  was  best  —  this  very  way. 

"And  to-morrow  can  I  doubt 

What  Thou  orderest  will  be  best  ? 

Darkness  may  be  round  about; 
Faith  may  meet  its  sorest  test  j 

But  the  past  must  lend  a  ray 

Of  assurance  for  that  day. 

Not  in  vain  Thy  grace  has  wrought 

Secretly,  against  my  will, 
Bringing  me  to  think  this  thought 

And  to  trust  Thy  mercy  still ; 
Trusting,  as  I  surely  may, 
Just  because  of  yesterday. 
124 


"  THOUGH  HE  SLAY  ME."  125 

Nay,  forgive  me  !  poor  indeed 
Is  the  faith  whose  backward  gaze 

Seeks  for  signs  that  it  may  plead 
In  behalf  of  coming  days, 

Strengthening  timid  hope  to  say, 

"  He  was  gracious  yesterday." 

Ah,  how  little  do  we  know 

Of  Thy  mercy's  magnitude ! 
How  our  faith  should  burn  and  glow 

With  the  thought  that  Thou  art  good ! 
And  in  adoration  say, 
"  I  will  trust  Him,  though  He  slay." 

Once  Thou  didst  bestow  a  sign 

That  forever  should  suffice ; 
Showing  forth  the  Love  Divine 

In  that  one  supreme  device. 
Though  all  else  should  pass  away, 
Faith  shall  find  that  sign  its  stay. 

Come,  then,  darkness,  suffering,  loss; 

Come  temptation,  sorrow,  death ; 
By  that  sign,  the  holy  Cross, 

Faith  forever  conquereth ; 
And  foretasting  Life  can  say, 
"  I  will  trust  Him,  though  He  slay." 


"HIM  THAT  COMETH  TO  ME  I  WILL 
IN  NO  WISE  CAST  OUT." 

T  T  ERE,   weary  heart,  at  last  thy  wanderings 
•*•  **•  cease ; 

Thy  long,  sad  quest ; 
Nowhere  beside  is  hope ;  nowhere  is  peace ; 

Nowhere  is  rest. 

O  slow  to  come  to  Him  who  called  and  called 

With  proffers  sweet ! 
While  pride  withheld  thee  and  thy  sin  appalled 

He  did  entreat. 

What  is  thy  shame,  however  great  thy  shame, 

When  thou  dost  think 
That  knowing  all  He  loved  thee  all  the  same ; 

How  couldst  thou  shrink! 

How  couldst  thou  fear !  as  if  He  could  reject 

Who  came  to  save ! 
To  give  thee  spite  of  guilt  and  long  neglect 

What  thou  didst  crave  — 
126 


"HIM   THAT  COMETH  TO  ME."  127 

The  sense  of  pardon  filling  all  the  soul 

Washed  clean  at  last; 
The  grace  that  follows  with  its  sweet  control ; 

The  shame  o'erpast ! 

To  win  thee  sorrowing  to  His  glad  embrace 

How  hath  He  striven ! 

Oh,  hear  His  Voice  —  couldst  thou  but  see  His 
Face  !  — 

Thou  art  forgiven ! 


THE  LOWEST   PLACE. 

OT  that  I  may  be  chiefest,  Lord, 

But  that  I  may  obey 
More  closely  Thy  most  sweet  commands, 
Teach  me  to  serve,  I  pray. 

Not  that  I  may  be  honored  more 

Who  am  indeed  the  least, 
I  would  the  lowest  place  like  one 

Grace-bidden  to  the  feast ; 

But  that  Thy  smile,  my  blessed  Lord, 
Might  reach  that  lowest  place, 

And  show  me,  though  the  last  and  least, 
The  fulness  of  that  grace. 
128 


"CONFESS  YOUR   FAULTS   ONE   TO 
ANOTHER." 

TT  OW  often,  dearest  Lord, 
•*-  •*•     Within  the  closet's  hush, 
Do  we  confess  our  sins  to  Thee 
With  tear  or  blush  ! 

But  when  in  word  or  deed 
Some  brother  we  offend, 
Though  one  sweet  utterance  would  keep 
Our  friend  our  friend, 

How,  trampling  on  Thy  grace, 

Pride  will  repentance  foil, 
And  from  confession  due  to  him 
Our  hearts  recoil ! 

"  I  cannot  stoop  to  that," 

Self-love  in  secret  cries  ; 
The  fear  of  man,  not  fear  of  sin, 
Before  her  eyes. 

129 


130  "CONFESS    YOUR  FAULTS 

Oh,  if  our  fear  of  man 

"Were  lost  in  love  of  Thee ; 
If  Thy  dear  likeness  we  possessed 
In  least  degree ; 

The  coldness  we  might  meet, 

The  poor  vague  sense  of  loss, 
The  small  contempt  that  often  seems 
The  sorest  cross, 

The  world's  derision  cast 
On  acts  of  lowliness,  — 
How  would  we  brave  them  for  Thy  sake, 
To  make  redress  ! 

The  hour  is  near  when  earth 

No  longer  will  appall ; 
But  only  words  and  deeds  that  hour 
Beyond  recall. 

I  would  not  leave  undone 

The  work  Thou  gavest  me, 
Nor  my  transgressions  unconfessed, 
Dear  Lord,  to  Thee. 

But  oh,  that  other  test 

Of  those  who  name  Thy  Name  ; 
The  bearing  of  that  outward  cross 
That  Thou  dost  claim  ! 


ONE  TO  ANOTHER."  131 

Sweet  Jesus,  give  me  grace, 

And  make  me  swift  to  say, 
"I  own  my  fault,  good  neighbor  mine; 
Forgive,  I  pray." 

And  should  my  neighbor  turn 

Away  from  me  his  face, 
Sufficient  for  my  humbled  soul 
Would  be  Thy  grace. 


THE  COMMON   OFFERING. 

T  T  is  not  the  deed  we  do, 

Though  the  deed  be  never  so  fair, 

But  the  love  that  the  dear  Lord  looketh  for, 
Hidden  with  holy  care 
In  the  heart  of  the  deed  so  fair. 

The  love  is  the  priceless  thing, 

The  treasure  our  treasure  must  hold, 

Or  ever  the  Lord  will  take  the  gift, 
Or  tell  the  worth  of  the  gold 
(By  the  love  that  cannot  be  told). 

Behold  us,  the  rich  and  the  poor, 

Dear  Lord,  in  Thy  service  drawn  near ; 

One  consecrateth  a  precious  coin, 
One  droppeth  only  a  tear : 
Look,  Master  ;  the  love  is  here  ! 
132 


A  HYMN  OF  CONTRITION. 

O  INGE  for  Thy  lips  were  mingled,  O  my  Lord, 
O        The  vinegar  and  gall, 

Should  I  not  say,  Earth's  sweet  things  be  abhorred, 
And  sweet  Earth's  bitter  call  ? 

Since  Thou  for  me  the  cup  of  death  didst  drain,  — 

Yea,  0  my  Lord,  for  me,  — 
My  cup  of  ills  should  I  not  take,  as  fain 

To  share  one  draught  with  Thee  ? 

O  Victor-Victim,  though  the  flesh  afraid 

Sink  trembling  at  Thy  feet, 
Cast  over  it  Thy  pity's  awful  shade, 

And  hear  me  Thee  entreat ! 

Make  Thou  these  tears  of  penitence  and  shame 

For  sin  and  frailties  all, 
More  sharp  than  vinegar,  more  hot  than  flame, 

And  bitterer  than  gall. 

Then,  Lord,  in  every  draught  Thou  wilt  distil 

Thine  own  exceeding  peace 
To  sweeten  all  the  cup  earth's  sorrows  fill 

Till  earth  and  sorrow  cease. 

133 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH. 

MEDITATION  sweet,  that  makes 

The  midnight  watch  an  hour  of  rest, 
And  brings,  when  fickle  sleep  forsakes, 
A  holier  calm  to  hearts  opprest. 

Soft  speaking  as  to  one  so  near 

That,  kneeling,  we  might  kiss  His  feet, 
The  Name  above  all  names  most  dear 

Our  erst  complaining  lips  repeat. 

Our  griefs  that  Christ  alone  can  guess, 
Our  doubts  that  Christ  alone  can  know, 

Flow  out  to  meet  His  tenderness,  — 
In  tearful  confidences  flow. 

For  He  who  bore  all  sorrow,  weighed, 
Nailed  to  His  own,  each  lesser  cross  ; 

He  knows  the  burden  on  us  laid, 
The  secret  pain,  the  hidden  loss. 

Touched  with  our  woes,  He  lifteth  up 
The  humblest  follower  in  His  train  ; 

He  maketh  sweet  the  bitter  cup, 
And  death  itself  is  blessed  gain. 
134 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  135 

Thus  in  the  lonely  night  we  learn 
To  trust  Him  most  as  joys  decrease, 

And  when  our  need  is  sorest  turn 
To  hear  His  silence  whisper,  Peace  ! 


O   SPOTLESS   LAMB! 

npHOUGH  all  I  have  is  Thine 
-*•       And  Thine  is  all  I  am, 
How  poor,  how  vile  a  gift  is  mine 
To  Thee,  0  Spotless  Lamb  ! 

For  all  I  have  is  dross, 

And  guilt  is  all  I  am, 
And  all  I  gain  I  count  as  loss, 

For  Thee,  0  Spotless  Lamb  ! 

What  is  my  life  but  death  — 

So  dead  in  heart  I  am  ! 
Oh  for  one  living,  living  breath 

Like  Thine,  0  Spotless  Lamb  ! 

Descend,  Thou  Holy  Dove, 

Brood  o'er  me  as  I  am, 
That  I  may  draw  that  breath  of  love  — 

Thy  love,  0  Spotless  Lamb ! 

For  me  Thy  blood  was  shed, 
All  worthless  though  I  am  ; 

In  that  pure  stream  from  foot  to  head 
I'll  wash,  0  Spotless  Lamb ! 
136 


0  SPOTLESS  LAMB!  137 

Made  clean  in  that  dear  tide 

Fit  ev'n  for  Thee  I  am  ; 
My  heart  of  hearts  thus  purified 

Accept,  0  Spotless  Lamb  ! 

And  when  beyond  earth's  sight 

With  Thy  redeemed  I  am, 
In  realms  whose  one  supernal  light 

Thou  art,  0  Spotless  Lamb,  — 

When  with  Thy  joy  and  peace 

Pure-clad  and  crowned  I  am, 
How  shall  I  sing,  nor  ever  cease, 

Thy  love,  0  Spotless  Lamb  ! 


A  PSALM  OF  WEARINESS. 


by  journeyings  far 
Where  no  resting-places  are, 
Lured  by  visions  of  repose 
That  in  fading  mock  my  woes, 
Saviour  !  may  Thy  presence  be 

Unto  me 

As  the  shadow  cool  and  sweet 
Of  a  rock  in  desert  heat. 

Shelter  of  the  shelterless, 
Cover  Thou  my  weariness  ; 
With  Thy  peace,  a  tent  most  fair, 
Screen  me  from  this  earthly  glare, 
And  Thy  consolations  shed 

On  my  head, 

Sweeter  than  the  balm  of  sleep 
When  the  eyes  forget  to  weep. 
138 


WHEN  I   AWAKE. 

Ps.  xvii.  15. 

WHEN  I  awake  shall  I  Thine  image  bear, 
O  Thou  Adored  ? 
The  image  lost,  in  some  pure  Otherwhere 

Oh,  shall  it  be  restored  ? 
Already  stealeth  o'er  my  trembling  soul 

Some  semblance  sweet,  — 
The  wavering  outline  of  the  perfect  whole 
Thy  Touch  shall  yet  complete  ? 

When  I  awake  shall  I  indeed  cast  by 

All  earthly  taint, 
And  walk  with  Thee  in  white,  Thy  white,  on  high, 

As  seraph  walks  and  saint  ? 
Through  endless,  blessed  ages  shall  I  know 

Thy  Will  alone ; 
Its  all-pervading,  perfect  motions  grow 

More  than  mine  own  mine  own  ? 

The  glories  that  no  vision  can  forestall 

With  crystal  gleam ; 
The  peace,  the  rapture,  and  the  holy  thrall 

Of  Love  that  reigns  supreme ; 

139 


140  WHEN  I  AWAKE. 

The  death  of  all  that  meaneth  self  and  time ; 

The  gain  of  Thee, 
My  Lord,  my  God !  the  victory  sublime 

When  only  Thou  shalt  be,  — 

Thou,  all  in  all,  —  all  in  Thy  fulness  lost, 

And  all,  all  found 
Dear  beyond  price,  no  aspiration  crossed  ; 

Thou,  only  Thou  our  bound ;  — 
Shall  I  behold,  receive,  possess,  attain 

All  this  and  more 
To  tell  whereof  all  tongues  would  strive  in  vain, 

In  vain  all  language  pour  ? 

Shall  the  Great  Vision  that  transcends  our  dreams 

At  last  unfold  ? 
Thy  Face,  Thy  Glory  whence  all  glory  streams 

Shall  I  indeed  behold 
When  I  awake  ?     Oh  can  it  ever  be, 

All  joys  beside, 
That  I  shall  gaze  and  gaze,  my  God,  on  Thee  ? 

I  shall  be  satisfied. 


A  MOKNING  HYMK 

SWEET  untroubled  morning,  bring 

Untroubled  peace  upon  thy  wing, 
And  banish  with  the  banished  night 
The  fears  that  cloud  thy  clearest  light. 

Not  more  serene,  if  not  more  drear, 

Will  be  the  morrow  for  our  fear ; 

While  Doubt,  sad  spendthrift !  throws  away 

The  golden  coin  of  hope  to-day. 

Oh  for  the  faith  that  goes  to  meet 
The  future  with  unshrinking  feet, 
Remembering  that  the  sorest  rod 
Blooms  with  the  patient  love  of  God ! 

Dear  Lord,  whose  mercy  veileth  all 
That  may  our  coming  days  befall, 
Still  hide  from  us  the  things  to  be, 
But  rest  our  troubled  hearts  in  Thee ! 

141 


EVENING  HYMN  OF  PKAISE. 

O  WEET  Jesu  !  through  the  hours  of  light, 
^     For  every  deadly  sin  restrained, 

For  dangers  passed,  for  comfort  gained, 
Praise,  praise  to  Thy  all-tender  might. 

Anien. 

Sweet  Jesu  !  through  the  hours  of  night 
Thy  watch  of  grace  and  mercy  keep ; 
Thou  slumherest  not  albeit  we  sleep ; 

Praise,  praise  to  Thy  all-tender  might. 

Amen. 

Sweet  Jesu  !  though  our  sins  affright 

And  fill  with  shame  our  sorrowing  breast, 
In  Thee  we  pardon  find  and  rest, 

Praise,  praise  to  Thy  all-tender  might. 

Amen. 

Sweet  Jesu !  when  the  world  is  bright, 
And  when  7t  is  dark,  alike  be  near, 
Our  stay  of  peace,  our  staff  of  cheer  ; 
Praise,  praise  to  Thy  all-tender  might. 

Amen. 
142 


EVENING  HYMN  OF  PRAISE.  143 

Sweet  Jesu !  Thine  by  day  and  night, 
In  joy  or  grief,  in  life  or  death, 
Fill  Thou  with  praise  our  every  breath, 

Praise,  praise  to  Thy  all-tender  might. 

Amen. 


A  NIGHT   OF  FAITH. 

TAAKK,  utter  dark;  no  faintest  ray 

To  light  the  way 
Of  sunset-gleam  or  coming  day ! 

The  vision  aches  with  lack  of  sight, 

For  depth  and  height 
Are  one  vast  blank  of  baffling  night. 

Oh  that  the  soul  might  be  at  rest ; 

Might  yield  her  quest, 
With  the  sole  thought  of  God  possessed ! 

That  she  might  close  her  wearied  eyes 

And  blindfold-wise 
Walk  on  as  under  shining  skies ; 

As  seeing  Him  who  is  unseen ; 

And  wait  serene 
Though  twofold  night  should  intervene  ! 

O  touch  of  God !  0  miracle 

That  none  may  tell ! 
Her  eyes  are  closed  and  all  is  well. 
144 


A  NIGHT  OF  FAITH.  145 

Though  twofold  night  doth  round  her  press 

She  knows  no  less 
He  will  not  leave  her  comfortless. 

The  desolate  Cry  on  Calvary's  height, 

Its  mid-day  night, 
Her  pledges  are  of  coming  light. 


THE  DIVINE   LOVE. 

PATIENT  God,  whom  men  forsake, 
All-kind,  all-gracious  as  Thou  art, 
How  soon  our  faithlessness  would  break 
A  human  heart ! 

How  vast  must  be  the  Love  so  strong, 

Its  yearning,  oh,  how  fathomless, 
That  sin  prolonged  should  yet  prolong 
Thy  tenderness  ! 

Though  we  may  slight  that  Love  with  doubt, 

Thy  paths  of  sweet  commandment  spurn, 
Thou  wilt  in  no  wise  cast  him  out 
Who  would  return ! 

The  uttermost  Thy  Love  doth  reach  ; 

And  oh  the  pathos  of  its  cry 
All  humbled  to  our  human  speech, — 
"  Wliy  will  ye  die  ?  " 

Were  not  Thy  wide  compassion  more 

Than  even  all  the  powers  of  sin 
These  feet  would  never  find  Thy  Door, 
And  enter  in. 
146 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE.  147 

We  see  Thee  as  the  suffering  Christ 

With  Cross  and  Passion  bowed  down  ; 
Earth's  meanest  things  for  Thee  sufficed, 
And  Sorrow's  crown, 

If  only  famished  souls  might  flee 

Life's  husks  for  Love's  Eternal  Feast, 
And  all  might  dwell  in  bliss  with  Thee  — 
The  very  least ! 

"  Lord,  we  repent !  Lord,  we  believe  ! " 

And  Thou  acceptest  even  this  ? 

And  faithless  wanderers  wilt  receive 

With  heavenly  kiss  ? 

0  Love  !  we  sink  from  Thine  embrace 

Thy  feet  to  kiss  forevermore  ! 
The  humblest  is  the  fittest  place 
When  souls  adore ! 


APPREHENSION. 

EAR  Lord,  this  day  is  so  unlike 

The  day  I  feared  that  it  would  be  ! 
I  wonder  much,  I  said  last  night, 
What  it  will  bring  to  me. 

What  does  it  mean,  —  this  haunting  dread  ? 

What  added  sorrows  wait  me  more, 
And  o'er  my  trembling  spirit  spread 

Their  shadows  thus  before  ? 

I  seemed  to  stand  upon  a  brink, 
Yet  could  not  see  the  gulf  below  ; 

It  dizzied  me  to  try  to  think, 
As  with  some  coming  blow. 

Dear  hands  I  saw  on  either  side 

Reach  out  as  for  a  final  kiss  ; 
And  clasping  each  o'er  each  I  cried, 

Not  this  one,  Lord  ;  not  this  ! 

I  cannot  bear  one  parting  more  ; 

My  heart  is  at  the  point  to  break ! 
As  if  Thou  didst  not  know  before, 

Dear  Lord,  to  Thee  I  spake. 
148 


APPREHENSION.  149 

And  then  I  slept,  the  sleep  of  fear, 
And  waked  in  sad  bewilderment ; 

The  day,  the  dreaded  day,  was  here ; 
What  trial  would  be  sent  ? 

Up  to  the  zenith  rose  the  sun, 

And  now  I  watch  its  bright  decline ; 

The  hours  have  passed  me  one  by  one ; 
No  added  griefs  are  mine  ! 

Still  must  I  feel  the  piercing  sword 
Of  what  hath  been  or  yet  may  be ; 

But  from  that  nameless  terror,  Lord, 
At  least  I  am  set  free. 

And  slowly,  slowly,  yet  how  sure, 
Returns  the  restful  consciousness 

That  in  Thy  care  I  am  secure, 
And  chastening,  Thou  dost  bless. 

Not  more  than  I  can  bear  I  know 
Thou,  dearest  Lord,  on  me  wilt  lay, 

And  I  can  learn  of  Thee  to  go 
Unf earing  on  my  way. 


GOD'S   SILENCE. 

OD'S  Silence  !     Holiest  speech  that  is 

Is  but  a  dew-fall  out  of  this ; 
And  human  Love's  own  tongues  of  bliss 
But  broken  language  caught  from  His. 

Why  should  we  question,  though  our  cry  — 
"  Lord,  hear  me  —  answer,  or  I  die  ! "  — 
Seems  echoed  from  an  empty  sky  ? 
He  hears  —  He  answers,  utterly. 

"  Lord,  answer  ! "     And  with  shuddering  breath, 
As  those  already  doomed  to  death, 
We  wait  for  Him  who  rescueth 
The  very  bird  that  perisheth. 

0  sword  of  doubt,  two-edged  with  pain, 
That  cuts  the  quivering  heart  in  twain  ! 
As  if  His  Love  could  ever  wane  ! 
As  if  our  cry  could  be  in  vain ! 

His  Silence  !  once,  indeed,  it  brake 
With  Love's  great  stress,  when  He  did  take 
A  mortal  guise  for  Love's  sweet  sake, 
And  spake  as  never  mortal  spake. 
150 


GOD'S  SILENCE.  151 

Since  He  his  own  Divine  did  blend 
With  Human  in  that  Saviour-Friend, 
That  we  enough  might  comprehend 
His  Love  to  trust  Him  to  the  end ; 

And  guided  by  His  perfect  care, 
Find  all  dark  places  everywhere 
Wind  upward,  a  celestial  stair 
To  Love's  own  heights  divinely  fair  ; 

He  must  forever  bless  ;  and  aye, 
At  the  dear  break  of  Heaven's  sweet  day, 
Wipe  all  earth's  bitter  tears  away, 
And  give  us  more  than  heart  can  pray  ! 

Oh,  should  He  speak,  and  could  we  guess 
That  Tongue  of  Infinite  Tenderness, 
His  Silence  still  would  more  express 
His  Love's  unspeakable  excess  ! 


"IT  IS  I." 

"  T  T  is  so  hard  ! "  I  said, 

•**     And  sat  within  and  told  my  troubles  o'er; 

A  hand  fell  softly  on  my  bowed  head, 
Yet  no  one  passed  my  door. 

"  A  fancy  ! "  then  I  said ; 
"But  oh  !  to  feel  that  touch  forevermore! 

Methinks,  indeed,  I  could  be  comforted ! " 
And  sorrowed  as  before. 

"  No  other  heart  can  know ! " 
Brake  out  my  grief  again  with  bitter  cry ; 

"  And  God  is  far  —  so  far  my  faith  lets  go 
Her  hold  on  Heaven  to  die  ! " 

Then  some  one  stooped  low, 
His  heart  full-throbbing,  as  with  tears,  close  by  : 

"  Lord !  is  it  Thou  so  moved  by  my  woe  ?  " 
He  answered,  "  It  is  I." 
152 


AFTER  THE  STOEM. 


A  LL  night  in  the  pauses  of  sleep  I  heard 
"^•^     The  moan  of  the  snow-wind  and  the  sea 
Like  the  wail  of  Thy  sorrowing  children,  0  God, 
Who  cry  unto  Thee. 

But  in  silence  and  beauty  the  morning  broke, 

Overflowing  creation  the  glad  light  streamed, 
And  earth  stood  shining  and  white  as  the  souls 
Of  the  blessed  redeemed. 

O  glorious  marvel  in  darkness  wrought ! 

With  smiles  of  promise  the  blue  sky  bent 
As  if  to  whisper  to  all  who  mourn 
Love's  hidden  intent. 

153 


O 


THE   MONK   OF   LA  TRAPPE. 

H  what  abounding  grace  ! 


Of  one  we  read 
Whose  piteous  wound  in  lieu  of  speech  did  bleed 
(As  if  even  Nature's  self  for  him  would  plead); 
Who  mid  his  silent  brethren  silent  went 
Two  weary  years  on  prayer  and  labor  bent, 
Unmindful  of  his  misery  so  he  still 
Shaped  every  deed  and  thought  to  God's  dear  will; 
Nor  heeded  he  his  bed  of  knotted  straw 
WThose  vigils  sore  the  Master  only  saw ; 
Nor  looked  forward  to  the  ashen  heap 
Whereon  the  dying  brethren  fell  on  sleep 
(Acquainting  them  or  ere  they  joined  the  dead 
With  the  poor  kindred  dust  whereto  they  sped)  ; 
Nor  fastings  long,  nor  penance  he  relaxed ; 
Nor  less  the  body  for  the  body  taxed ; 
Nor  changed  a  whit  the  posture,  or  the  face 
That  shone  with  calm  while  grew  his  woe  apace. 
Vain,  vain  the  body's  strife  to  turn  aside 
The  purpose  of  the  spirit  sanctified ! 
In  snatch  of  wretched  sleep  his  chastened  will 
154 


THE  MONK   OF  LA    TRAPPE.  155 

Restrained  the  groan,  o'ercame  the  anguish,  still ; 
And  if  perchance  that  sleep  his  lips  unsealed, 
Their  words  of  peace  his  sharpest  pangs  concealed. 

But  when  the  oozing  blood  for  him  complained, 
And  half-betrayed  his  woe  the  raiment  stained, 
The  quick-eyed  abbot  bade  the  surgeon  speed 
Whose  skilful  hand  might  serve  his  piteous  need. 
Compassionate  the  sufferer  they  bound, 
While  wept  the  mute  attendants  standing  round 
As  the  bared  back  disclosed  the  blackening  wound. 
"Thus  bind  him  fast!"  the  surgeon  whispered  low; 
"Not  else  might  he  endure  the  mortal  woe !" 
While  they  through  tears  beheld  the  fearful  sight 
The  poor  monk  raised  a  face  of  saintly  light ; 
"  Not  of  myself,"  he  said,  "  but  God  is  here 
To  hold  me  that  I  neither  shrink  nor  fear." 
Then  even  as  Death's  own  shadow  in  the  cell 
On  him,  on  all,  the  wonted  silence  fell ; 
Only  a  dripping  on  the  floor  of  brick 
As  the  sharp  knife  swift  pierced  to  the  quick : 
No  shudder  felt,  no  moan  repressed,  betrayed 
The  spirit  fainting  or  the  flesh  afraid. 
"  0  holy  father,  he  must  speak  or  die  ! 
Command  these  lips  to  utter  forth  their  cry!" 
Implored  the  surgeon,  with  a  whitening  cheek. 
"  Speak,  0  my  brother,  speak!  I  bid  thee  speak  !  " 
With  streaming  eyes  the  pitying  abbot  said, 
As  it  were  lus  own  quivering  flesh  that  bled ! 


156  THE  MONK    OF  LA   TRAPPE. 

The  ashen  lips  almost  a  smile  entranced, 
And  from  the  eye  unearthly  rapture  glanced, 
As  his  uplifted  face  like  Stephen's  glowed, 
And  from  his  tongue  a  heavenly  utterance  flowed : 

"My  Lord!  my  Lord!  that  Thou  shouldst  raise 

me  up, 

And  suffer  me  to  taste  Thy  measureless  cup 
Of  agony,  and  in  some  poor  degree 
Learn  how  all-measureless  Thy  Love  must  be ! 
O  wondrous  riches  by  the  poorest  gained  ! 
O  heights  no  rapture  ever  yet  attained  ! 
0  depths  beyond  all  human  thought  to  reach  ! 
Love  passing  knowledge  as  it  passeth  speech  ! 
That  I  should  see  the  glory  of  Thy  Face 
While  yet  vile  clay  in  this  despised  place  ! 
0  all-transcending  Love  !  0  matchless  grace  ! 
Thrice-blest  this  tongue  that  may  forego  its  spell 
Not  of  these  pangs  but  of  that  Love  to  tell ! " 

Even  as  he  spake  back  in  their  arms  he  fell, 
And  Death's  own  radiance  filled  the  narrow  cell ! 


MY   PETITION. 

when  I  pray  that  God  will  bless 
My  friends  most  dear, 
Will  make  their  trials  something  less, 
Or  crown  their  lives  with  happiness, 
From  year  to  year  j 

Soon  as  my  fond  petitions  rise, 

The  thought  will  come 
That  the  dear  Lord  alone  is  wise, 
And  He  ordaineth  sacrifice 

As  life's  true  sum.  «r" 

Whichever  way  our  path  may  lead 

There  looms  the  Cross, 
No  less  to  beckon  than  to  plead  ; 
The  while  it  covers  human  need, 

Demanding  loss. 

u  If  thou  wilt  enter  life,  resign 

Thy  life,"  it  saitli  ; 
"  A  soldier  of  the  King  Divine, 
The  martyr's  spirit  should  be  thine, 

If  not  his  death. 

157 


158  MY  PETITION. 

"  What  thou  possessest,  count  it  loss ; 

It  will  not  last ; 

The  wealth  of  this  world  yield  as  dross ; 
Hold  blessings  humbly  ;  but  the  cross  — 

The  cross  hold  fast !  " 

Not  less  of  trial  then,  not  more 

Of  happiness 

I  crave,  as  I  have  craved  before, 
For  those  I  pray  for  o'er  and  o'er, 

And  fain  would  bless. 

But  now  my  fond  petitions  rise  : 

From  things  of  time, 
Lord  Jesus,  turn  away  their  eyes, 
That  they  may  see  in  sacrifice 

A  joy  sublime. 

Not  sacrifice  of  strength  or  ease 

Or  wealth  alone ; 

But  what  so  far  exceedeth  these  — 
The  self  so  eager  self  to  please, 

And  seek  its  own. 

For  Thy  sweet  sake  in  them  fulfil 

This  sacrifice, 

And  make  them  strong  to  serve  Thee  still, 
Yea,  Lord,  through  good  report  and  ill, 

Whate'er  the  price. 


MY  PETITION,  159 

Give  what  Thou  wilt,  or  take  away  ; 

Be  this  their  crown, 
Their  earthly  life  from  day  to  day 
In  will,  if  not  in  deed,  to  lay 

Victorious  down. 


THE   WAY   OF   THOKNS. 


HP  HERE  is  but  one  true  way  ; 
No  other  choice  be  mine ; 
Lord,  every  path  must  lead  astray 
Save  only  Thine. 

A  straight  and  narrow  road 
Hedged  in  with  thorns  indeed, 

And  every  thorn  most  like  a  goad 
To  bid  me  heed. 

They  wound  my  human  pride, 
They  rend  my  selfishness, 

And  when  I  seek  to  turn  aside, 
How  sharp  they  press ! 

On  every  hand  I  hear 
Alluring  tongues  of  time, 

And  oft  they  win  my  outward  ear 
Like  silver  chime. 

They  call :  "  That  way  forsake  ; 

A  needless  strife  is  thine; 
A  thousand  paths  our  feet  may  take 

And  find  divine." 
160 


THE    WAY   OF  THORNS.  161 

But  have  ye  seen  the  end  ? 

I  trembling  answer  back  : 
He  knoweth  all,  my  Lord  and  Friend, 

Who  points  this  track. 

Here  His  Apostles  trod ; 

Here  martyrs  won  their  crown  ; 
Here  every  saint  for  love  of  God 

The  world  laid  down. 

His  own  most  blessed  feet 

This  narrow  pathway  wore, 
And  pangs  no  anguish  can  repeat 

For  us  He  bore. 

All  sorrow,  shame,  and  scorn, 

Death,  very  death  He  knew ; 
From  every  thorn  a  sharper  thorn 

His  pity  drew. 

A  way  of  strife  indeed, 

But  every  step  I  go 
That  pity  to  repentance  leads 

And  keeps  me  low. 

Because  the  way  is  His, 

And  victory  is  sure, 
And  faith  is  more  than  present  bliss, 

I  can  endure. 


THE  BLESSED  TASK. 

T    SAID :  Sweet  Master,  hear  me  pray ; 
-*-     For  love  of  Thee  the  boon  I  ask ; 
Give  me  to  do  for  Thee  each  day 

Some  simple,  lowly,  blessed  task. 
And  listening  long  with  hope  elate 
I  only  heard  Him  whisper,  Wait. 

The  days  went  by  but  nothing  brought 
Beyond  the  wonted  round  of  care, 

And  I  was  vexed  with  anxious  thought, 
And  found  the  waiting  hard  to  bear  ; 

But  when  I  sighed,  In  vain  I  pray, 

I  heard  Him  gently  answer,  Nay  ! 


So  praying  still  and  waiting  on, 

And  pondering  what  that  waiting  meant, 
This  knowledge  sweet  at  last  I  won  — 

And  oh  the  depth  of  my  content !  — 
My  blessed  task  for  every  day 
Is  humbly,  gladly  to  obey. 
162 


THE  BLESSED    TASK.  163 

And  though  I  daily,  hourly  fail 

To  bring  my  task  to  Him  complete,       * 

And  must  with  constant  tears  bewail 
My  failures  at  my  Master's  feet, 

No  other  service  would  I  ask 

Than  this  my  blessed,  blessed  task. 


DISCOURAGEMENT. 

T    OED,  when  I  strive  to  serve  Thee  most, 
-^      Yet  toil  in  vain ; 
When  I  can  see  but  labor  lost, 
Instead  of  gain ; 

When  plans  fall  out  another  way 

From  what  seems  best, 
And  failure  comes  though  I  obey 

Thy  clear  behest ; 

When  hopes  whereon  I  dare  to  lean 

Thou  dost  deny ; 
When  Thou  forbiddest  me  to  glean 

The  fields  hard  by  ; 

When  fairest  prospects  opening  wide 

Before  mine  eyes, 
Thou  wallest  in  on  every  side, 

And  mountains  rise 

That  faith  seems  powerless  to  remove,  — 

Then,  dearest  Lord, 
Draw  near  to  me,  draw  near  and  prove 

Thy  written  Word ! 
164 


DISCOURAGEMENT.  165 

That  Thou  in  all  things  dost  ordain 

Thy  children's  good ; 
That  joy  shall  be  the  fruit  of  pain 

When  understood, 

I  know,  and  yet  (0  slow  of  heart !) 

But  half  believe ; 
And  when  I  fail  in  secret  smart, 

And  fret,  and  grieve. 

Fill  me  with  faith's  divine  content 

In  Thee,  0  Lord, 
And  make  me  willing  to  be  spent 

Without  reward  ! 

Yea,  Lord,  without  one  smallest  gain, 

Though  sought  alone 
For  others'  good,  by  toil  and  pain, 

Not  for  mine  own. 

And  when  my  failures  cast  me  down, 

Make  me  to  rest, 
Not  in  the  thought  of  any  crown, 

But  on  Thy  breast. 

The  weary  sea-bird  goes  to  sleep 

On  tossing  waves, 
Untroubled  by  the  storm,  the  deep, 

In  trust  that  saves. 


166  DISCOURAGEMENT. 

It  is  the  hollow  of  Thy  hand 
That  shapes  its  nest ; 

So,  though  I  may  not  understand, 
Make  me  to  rest. 


MY  FIELD. 

T   WILL  not  wrong  thee,  O  To-day, 

With  idle  longing  for  To-morrow  ; 
But  patient  plough  my  field  and  sow 
The  seed  of  faith  in  every  furrow. 

Enough  for  me  the  loving  light 

That  melts  the  cloud's  repellent  edges ; 

The  still  unfolding,  bud  by  bud, 

Of  God's  most  sweet  and  holy  pledges. 

I  breathe  His  breath  ;  my  life  is  His  ; 

The  hand  He  nerves  knows  no  defrauding; 
The  Lord  will  make  this  joyless  waste 

Wave  with  the  wheat  of  His  rewarding. 

Of  His  rewarding!     Yes;  and  yet 
Not  mine  a  single  blade  or  kernel ; 

The  seed  is  His ;  the  quickening  His ; 
The  care  unchanging  and  eternal. 

His,  too,  the  harvest  song  shall  be 

When  He  who  blessed  the  barren  furrow 

Shall  thrust  His  shining  sickle  in 
And  reap  my  little  field  To-morrow. 

167 


HIS  PEACE. 

T  T  7  HEIST  day  and  its  cares  are  over 

*  *        I  draw  my  chamber  blind, 
And  under  the  night's  sweet  cover 
All  manner  of  comfort  find. 

Like  doves  to  their  windows  flying 
My  thoughts  from  their  daily  quest 

At  the  call  of  my  heart  replying 
Return  to  their  nightly  rest. 

And  folding  them  all  together 
I  hide  them  away  from  sight, 

Their  wanderings  hither  and  thither 
Forgot  in  the  quiet  of  night. 

One,  only  one  thought  remaineth.; 

It  is  born  not  of  nature  but  grace, 
And  upward  the  flight  it  taketh 

Beyond  the  limits  of  space : 

He  only  who  changes  never, 

Can  choose  for  my  soul  the  best ; 

Can  quicken  and  crown  the  endeavor,  - 
He  only  can  give  me  rest. 
168 


HIS  PEACE.  169 

How  mighty  He  is,  I  remember ; 

How  measureless  is  His  Love  ; 
And  how  in  the  heart's  hushed  chamber 

His  Peace  may  abide  as  a  dove. 


OMNISCIENCE. 

/TVHE  door  is  shut  and  yet  Thou  enterest  in, 
•*•       Without  or  lifting  latch  or  loosening  bar ! 
Friends  who  have  known  me  best  and  longest  win 

No  entrance  here ;  but  only  stand  afar 
Oblivious  of  the  hiding  places  deep 
Where  I  myself  unconsciously  do  keep. 

Thou  enterest  in,  0  Lord,  Omnipotent, 
Omniscient,  Omnipresent,  yet  unseen ; 

Thy  patient  eyes  upon  me  ever  bent ; 
No  faintest  mist  hung  piteously  between 

To  veil  my  thoughts  or  my  infirmities 

From  those  all-searching  and  long-suffering  eyes. 

As  I  am  seen  could  I  but  gaze  on  Thee 

Awful  in  majesty  and  royal  might, 
Yet  as  a  lamb  in  love's  simplicity, 

And  as  a  spotless  lamb  of  matchless  white, 
So  kingly  yet  so  lowly  !  —  could  I  see, 
What,  0  my  Saviour,  would  become  of  me ! 
170 


OMNISCIENCE.  171 

This,  this  I  know ;  no  word  of  self-excuse 

For  any  fault  of  mine  my  tongue  could  frame ; 

Nay,  more ;  for  very  shame  I  should  refuse 

The  shield,  if  there  could  be  a  shield  from  blame ; 

And  all  the  love  that  human  breast  can  know 

Would  at  Thy  feet  lay  me  forever  low ! 


"NO   ONE   TAKETH  YOUR  PEACE 
AWAY." 


/~PHE  long  week's  close :  how  sweet  and  clear 
•*•    The  curfew  greets  the  tired  world's  ear ! 
"  In  sleep  by  night  and  in  rest  by  day, 
Peace  be  yours  ! "  it  seems  to  say. 

Then  folds  the  world  its  countless  hands ; 
Unheeded  slide  the  drowsy  sands, 
This  last  sweet  night  of  the  rounded  seven 
Falling  noiselessly  out  of  heaven. 

In  depths  of  more  celestial  blue 
The  sacred  morn  unfolds  anew, 
As  if  to  yield  to  the  weary  breast 
Balm  of  beauty  as  well  as  rest. 

How  hushed  !  the  silence-quickened  ear 
Turned  heavenward  can  almost  hear 
The  white  cloud  trail,  and  the  arrow  of  light 
Earthward  speeding  in  golden  flight. 
172 


W0  ONE  TAKETH  YOUR  PEACE  AWAY."     173 

And  over  all.  compassionate, 
A  tender  Presence  seems  to  wait, 
Beyond  the  cloud,  beyond  the  light, 
Beckoning  upward  from  height  to  height. 

"  In  sleep  by  night  and  in  rest  by  day, 
May  peace  be  yours,"  did  the  curfew  say  ? 
"  I,  only,  can  give  you  peace  !  "  replies 
A  Voice  that  thrilleth  the  boundless  skies. 

Lord  Jesus,  turn  us  from  the  noise 
Of  endless  strivings  and  empty  joys, 
To  find  forever  Thy  one  true  peace, 
Rest  from  sorrow,  from  sin  release ! 

Then  will  each  morn  of  the  week-day  year 
The  Lord's  Day  morning  mirror  clear ; 
And  every  night  will  the  curfew  say, 
"  No  one  taketh  your  peace  away." 


IN  THE  GARDEN. 

T  N  this  still  garden  in  the  cool  of  day 

I  often  meditate  :  — 
Should  He  who  walked  in  Eden  come  this  way 

And  consecrate 

This  place  of  bloom  with  Presence  passing  fair 
And  robes  that  make  more  sweet  this  summer  air  ! 

Anon  a  Voice  far  off  yet  near  I  catch, 

And  question,  —  Comes  He  now  ? 

The  virgin  lilies  that  for  Him  keep  watch 
Do  lowly  bow, 

And  the  meek  grasses  lowlier  yet  to  greet 

His  soft  approach  and  reverent  kiss  His  feet. 

But  as  for  me  who  cannot  see  Him  pass 
Yet  fain  would  feel  Him  near, 
I  bow  me  lowlier  even  than  the  grass, 

In  love  and  fear  ; 

Far  lowlier  than  the  lilies  on  their  stem, 
And  through  them  press  to  touch  His  garment's 
hem  ! 

174 


IN   THE   GARDEN.  175 

More  softly  blows  the  summer  wind  to  lift 

His  mantle's  sacred  fold  ; 
Through  all  the  place  sweet  sighs  and  odors  drift 

Like  bliss  half-told ; 
And  in  the  fading  west  a  single  star 
Trembles  with  rapture  watching  Him  afar ! 

And  oh,  that  I  should  see  that  star  remote 

Yet  His  near  Glory  miss 
Wherein  the  sun  itself  and  stars  do  float 

As  motes,  I  wis ! 

But  since  no  man  that  Glory  could  abide, 
How  should  I  dare  lament  the  sight  denied ! 

Dark,   hushed   and  dark,   the    garden    round  me 
grows, 

The  folded  flowers  more  sweet ; 
I  hearken  long  to  hear  Him  where  He  goes 

With  noiseless  feet, 

Till  the  familiar  place  seems  sad  and  strange, 
And  Eden  to  Gethsemane  doth  change. 

Through  heavy  silence  falls  the  heavy  dew 
Like  sweat  of  sorrow  wrung, 

As  if  the  bitter  cup  were  filled  anew 
O'er  which  He  hung, 

Whose  Love  all  love  transcending  overcame, 

For  us  endured  the  Cross,  despised  the  shame  ! 


176  IN   THE   GARDEN. 

Albeit  against  that  Presence  passing  by 
These  mortal  eyes  are  sealed, 

I  see  this  Other,  like  Him,  standing  nigh, 
To  faith  revealed : 

At  His  dear  feet  on  consecrated  sod 

I  cry  like  one  of  old  :  "  My  Lord  —  my  God  !  " 


THE   TWO  CITIES. 

the  dusky  shores  of  evening  stretched  in 
shining  peace  it  lies, 
City   built   of    clouds    and   sunshine,    wonder    of 
the  western  skies  ! 

While  I  watch  and  long  for  pinions  thitherward 

to  take  my  flight, 
Slowly  the  aerial  City  fades   and  vanishes  from 

sight. 

Ruby  dome   and  silver    temple,   circling  wall    of 

amethyst, 
Fall  in  silence  leaving  only  purple  ruin  hung  with 

mist. 

Darkness  gathers  eastward,   westward  ;    stronger 

waxeth  my  desire 
Reaching  through  celestial    spaces    glittering   as 

with  rain  of  fire, 

To  the  City  set  in  jasper  having  twelve  founda- 
tions fair, 

Flashing  from  their  jewelled  splendor  every  color 
soft  and  rare. 

177 


178  THE   TWO    CITIES. 

Twelve   in  number  are   its    gateways,   numbered 

by  the  Seer  of  old  ; 
Every  gate  a  pearl  most  lustrous,  and  its  streets 

are  paved  with  gold. 

In  the  midst  in  dazzling  whiteness  lightens  the 

Eternal  Throne  ; 
From  it  flows  the  Living  water ;  round  it  gleams 

an  emerald  zone. 

Luscious  fruits   and  balmy  odors,  healing  leaves 

and  cooling  shade, 
Either  side  the  Life-tree  sheddeth  by  sweet  storms 

of  music  swayed. 

O  thou  grand  untempled  City  seen  by  John  in 

visions  bright, 
Glory-flooded,   needing   neither  sun   by  day  nor 

moon  by  night  j 

Filled  forever  and  forever  by  the  shining  light  of 

Him 
Who    redeemed   the   world   and    sitteth    throned 

between  the  Seraphim  ! 

Through  thy  lovely  gates  the  nations  of  the  saved 

in  triumph  stream, 
Chanting  praise  above   all   praises,   love  of   love 

their  holy  theme. 


THE    TWO   CITIES.  179 

They  no  more  shall   thirst  or  hunger,  they  no 

more  with  heat  shall  faint ; 
Christ  for  tears  will  give  them  gladness,  blissful 

rest  for  sore  complaint. 

Blessed  they  who  do  His  bidding,  cries  the  Angel 

day  and  night ; 
They  shall  find  abundant  entrance ;    they  shall 

walk  with  Him  in  white. 


THE   WANING  YEAR 


year   s  wanng,  wanng; 
I  feel  its  close  draw  near  ; 
A  murmur  of  complaining 

In  all  earth's  sounds  I  hear, 

That  saith,  The  year  is  waning  ; 

And  sighs,  0  waning  year  ! 

All  garnered  is  its  glory, 
Its  fulness  and  its  might  ; 

The  ghostly  fields  lie  hoary 
Seen  in  the  early  light  ; 

The  threads  of  summer's  story 
Are  lost  to  touch  and  sight. 

But  memories  grow  dearer 
When  falls  the  latest  leaf; 

And  many  things  grow  clearer 
To  eyes  made  dim  hy  grief  ; 

And  hidden  things  seem  nearer 

Because  the  days  are  brief. 
180 


THE    WANING    YEAR.  181 

The  wealth  we  must  surrender 
Of  leafage,  bloom,  and  light, 

Reveals  the  larger  splendor 
And  grandeur  of  the  night ; 

And  worship  that  we  render 
Seems  more  in  God's  own  sight. 


The  heavens  laid  hare  above  us 

In  majesty  untold, 
Show  forth  how  He  doth  love  us, 

And  would  our  lives  infold ; 
How  the  dear  Lord  would  have  us 

Look  up  to  Him  more  bold ; 

With  simple,  childlike  boldness, 
That  fears  without  a  fear ; 

Nor  stands  far  off  in  coldness, 
But  draws  unquestioning  near; 

A  glad,  forgetful  boldness, 
That  saith,  Thy  child  is  here! 

Oh,  as  the  years  go  by  us, 
As  year  by  year  they  wane, 

And  many  trials  try  us, 
And  everything  is  vain, 

If  God  doth  not  deny  us 

How  can  our  hearts  complain  ! 


182  THE    WANING    YEAR. 

The  fields  will  fade  around  us, 

Our  beauty  go  away  ; 
The  darkness  will  surround  us, 

But,  oh  !  we  need  not  stray ; 
And  nothing  shall  confound  us 

Who  look  to  Him  alway. 

The  year  is  waning,  waning  ; 

I  feel  its  close  draw  near ; 
And  through  the  earth's  complaining 

One  blessed  Voice  I  hear. 
O  happy,  peaceful  waning  ! 

How  sweet  the  waning  year ! 


VALE. 

GOD-NIGHT,  0  Earth !  the  nights  are  grow- 
ing long ; 

The  days  are  brief  ; 

Life  hath  one  solemn  burden  for  its  song : 
"  As  fades  the  leaf." 

Good-night,  poor  World  !  if  thou  art  full  of  sin 

Why  so  am  I ! 
In  this  proud  heart  to  judge  would  I  begin, 

Nor  self  pass  by. 

Good-night,  my  foe !  not  all  the  wrong  was  thine ; 

My  share  I  own ; 
Forgive !  —  we,  human,  know  one  word  Divine ; 

The  sun  goes  down. 

Good-night,  good  friend !  though  poor  my  gifts  to 
thee 

I  will  not  fret ; 

The  richer  thou  whose  bounty  is  so  free, 
And  sweet  my  debt. 

183 


184  VALE. 

No  longer  to  revenge  nor  to  repay 

I  strive  or  seek ; 
Empty  I  came,  must  empty  go  away,  — 

Empty  and  weak. 

As  one  who  wakes  no  more  to  smile  or  weep 

Another  day, 
So  would  I  lay  me  humbly  down  to  sleep 

And  humbly  say : 

Dear  Lord,  who  hadst  not  where  to  lay  Thy  head, 

As  poor  were  I 
Did  not  Thy  mercy  make  for  me  a  bed 

Whereon  to  die. 


PART   II. 

<£o  tug  Jliece*, 

JEANIE,    MARY,    AND    EDITH. 


THE   FLIGHT   OF  THE   BIKDS. 

WISE  little  birds,  how  do  ye  know 

The  way  to  go, 
Southward  and  northward,  to  and  fro  ? 

Far  up  in  the  ether  piped  they  : 

"We  but  obey 
One  who  calleth  us  far  away. 

"  He  calleth  and  calleth  year  by  year, 

Now  there,  now  here  ; 
Ever  He  maketh  the  way  appear." 

Dear  little  birds  !     He  calleth  me 

Who  calleth  ye : 
Would  that  I  might  as  trusting  be  ! 

187 


FKIENDS. 

TO    CARA. 

HP  HERE  is  only  the  river  between  us,  dear, 
•**       And  we  can  come  and  go, 
And  though  you  are  there  and  I  am  here 

I  ani  filled  with  content,  for  I  know 
You  are  moving  brightly  about  the  house 

Busy  with  many  a  task, 
And  often  alone  in  your  fair  sweet  room 
In  the  morning  light  or  the  evening  gloom 
You  think  of  me, 
You  pray  for  me, 
And,  oh,  what  more  can  I  ask ! 

Daily,  indeed,  I  wish  you  were  here, 
And  when  I  am  doubtful  or  vexed 
I  long  for  your  counsels  calm  and  clear, 

But  I  do  the  thing  that  lies  next, 
And  He  who  is  more  than  any  friend 

Makes  everything  easy  and  straight, 
And  it  is  not  so  hard  as  I  feared  to  go 
In  the  way  untried,  and  as  long  as  I  know 
You  think  of  me 
And  you  pray  for  me, 
For  everything  else  I  can  wait. 
188 


FRIENDS.  189 

Some  day  I  shall  go  to  her,  I  say, 

Or  she  will  come  over  to  me  ; 
In  a  little  space  I  shall  see  her  face, 

This  very  day  it  may  be. 
So  I  will  not  mind  the  things  unkind, 

The  bitter  that  might  be  sweet, 
But  strive  with  a  better,  braver  heart 
To  fight  the  good  fight  and  bear  my  part, 
While  she  thinks  of  me 
And  prays  for  me, 

And  very  soon  we  shall  meet. 

Sometimes  I  ponder  how  it  will  be 

When  you  drift  to  some  home  afar  ; 
And  sometimes  how  when  you  are  gone 

Where  the  saints  and  angels  are, 
Whon  another  river  shall  flow  between 

That  never  can  be  recrossed ; 
But  still  I  say,  whatever  betide, 
Though  earth  may  part  us  or  death  divide, 
She  will  think  of  me, 
She  will  pray  for  me ; 

My  friend  can  never  be  lost. 

For  friendship  to  live  must  be  to  love, 

To  remember  must  be  to  pray, 
So  living  or  dying  your  prayers  must  be  mine 

And  mine  must  be  yours  alway. 


190  FRIENDS. 

And,  oh,  in  the  light  of  Paradise, 

Most  faithful  of  friends,  most  dear, 
Unhindered  by  weakness  or  doubt,  and  wise 
With  the  wisdom  that  sees  not  with  earthly  eyes, 
It  surely  must  be 
You  will  pray  for  me 
As  you  could  not  pray  for  me  here ! 


THE  LILACS. 


T_J  EAVY  with  fragrance  and  with  dew, 

I  see  them  in  the  moonlight  pale,  — 
The  lilac-plumes  that,  two  and  two, 
Nod  to  the  wind's  low  wail. 

Purple  and  white,  I  see  them  wave,  — 
Purple  for  valor,  white  for  truth ; 

And  far  away  I  see  a  grave 

Where  lies  the  flower  of  youth ! 

191 


THE   RIVER. 


A  BOVE  the  winding  Kiver's  brink 
"*•**     The  tall  trees  wave  their  branches  green  ; 
Their  cool  brown  roots,  washed  bare  and  clean, 
Reach  down  through  cooler  depths  to  drink. 


"  Behold,  how  heavenly  is  my  task," 
Methinks  the  River  murmurs  low  ; 
"  As  God  bestoweth,  I  bestow  ; 

To  be  like  Him  is  all  I  ask." 

0  River,  thou  and  I  are  one 
In  sweet  desire  to  serve  and  be ; 
Yet  every  day  I  grieve  to  see 

How  all  my  deeds  do  self  ward  run! 
192 


THE  DOVES. 


"pKETTY  doves,  so  blithely  ranging 

Up  and  down  the  street ; 
Glossy  throats  all  bright  hues  changing, 
Little  scarlet  feet. 

Pretty  doves  !  among  the  daisies 

They  should  coo  and  flit ! 
All  these  toilsome,  noisy  places 

Seem  for  them  unfit. 

Yet  amidst  our  human  plodding 

They  must  love  to  be  ; 
With  their  little  heads  a-nodding, 

Busier  than  we. 

Close  to  hoof  and  wheel  they  hover, 

Glancing  right  and  left, 
Sure  some  treasure  to  discover ; 

Rapid,  shy,  and  deft. 

Friendliest  of  feathered  creatures, 

In  their  timid  guise ; 
Wisdom's  little  silent  teachers, 

Praying  us  be  wise. 

193 


194  THE  DOVES. 

Fluttering  at  footsteps  careless. 

Danger  swift  to  flee, 
Lowly,  trusting,  faithful,  fearless, 

Oh  that  such  were  we  ! 

In  the  world  and  yet  not  of  it, 
Ready  to  take  wing,  — 

By  this  lesson  could  we  profit 
It  were  everything ! 


THE   LINGERING   OCTOBER   WEATHER. 

TO    MES.    H.    E.    H. 

you  recall  our  pleasant  walk, 
The  last,  dear  friend,  we  took  together, 
Our  leisurely  pace,  our  quiet  talk, 
The  lingering  October  weather  ? 

How  still  the  world  was !     Not  a  breath 

To  lift  a  leaf  or  float  a  feather ; 
A  hush  of  happiness,  not  death, 

That  lingering  October  weather. 

While  like  some  frolic  creature  tied 
By  sweet  content's  unconscious  tether, 

Your  little  one  walked  close  beside 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

The  lazy  crows  above  our  head 

Went  slowly  sailing  through  the  ether; 

The  dry  leaves  rustled  at  our  tread 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

We  followed  up  the  winding  road 

Where  shore  and  river  kissed  each  other, 

And  Nature's  peace  our  hearts  o'erflowed 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

195 


196     THE  LINGERING  OCTOBER    WEATHER. 

Against  the  background  of  the  pines 
The  birch  and  maple  leaned  together; 

A  flame  ran  through  the  blackberry  vines 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

Fair  vistas  opened  either  side, 

Of  hill  or  stream,  or  both  together  ; 

But  one  the  hush  on  wood  and  tide 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

The  distant  mountain  seemed  a  cloud 
Or  like  a  melting  opal  rather, 

With  such  a  gracious  light  endowed, 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

I  looked  upon  your  happy  face ; 

I  watched  you  as  we  walked  together ; 
I  thought :  She  fills  so  fair  a  place ! 

That  lingering  October  weather. 

With  dancing  eyes  in  swift  surprise 
You  stooped  a  wilding  rose  to  gather  ; 

A  rose,  the  pet  of  summer  skies, 

Still  blooming  through  October  weather  ! 

I  thought  how  like  the  rose  you  were  ! 

Though  youth  and  summer  fly  together, 
Xo  frost,  I  said,  will  visit  her, 

But  lingering  October  weather. 


THE  MORNING  CHAMBER. 

I. 

HPHIS  flower-like  chamber,  delicately  walled, 
•"•       Of  softest  tints,  low  ceiled,  wide  and  fair, 
Where  pensive  meditations  seem  installed 

Like  cloistered  nuns  long-motionless  in  prayer ; 
This  lovely  chamber,  looking  south  and  east 

Across  green  seas  of  rippling  foliage  dense, 
Whose  waiting  windows  catch  the  first  and  least 

Soft    glimmer    from    that    heavenly    chamber 

whence 
The  sun  rejoicing  cometh ;  this  sweet  room, 

While  folded  yet  in  slumbers  incomplete 
The  whole  fair  house  beside  lies  wrapt  in  gloom ; 

This  morning  chamber,  high  above  the  street, 
Day's  silent  glory  floods  and  overflows 
With  golden  calm  that  crowns  the  night's  repose. 

II. 

HIGH  noon  !  and  fuller  floods  of  sunshine  pour 
Into  this  shining  chamber  till  it  seems  — 
The  very  hidden  rafters,  secret  beams  — 

To  swim  in  splendor  !     I  but  cross  the  floor 

197 


198  THE  MORNING  CHAMBER. 

And  I  forget  ?t  is  Winter,  keen  as  clear. 
To  the  swift  eyes  of  mine  imagining 
Wide   stand  the  windows,  and   the  breath  of 
Spring, 

Sweet  courier  of  the  violets,  is  here. 

I  half  resolve  to  hie  me  out  and  see 
How  like  a  tiny  army  they  possess 
The  earth  —  the  violets,  with  their  loveliness, 

When,  of  a  sudden,  breaks  my  reverie  ! 

But  the  warm  flood  fills  all  the  chamber  yet, 

And  ere  it  ebbs  I  will  again  forget ! 

III. 

FAIR  as  the  peace  that  like  a  river  flows, 

Across  the  room  the  cloudless  moonlight  streams; 
Recess  and  corner  dusk  its  hallowing  beams 
Suffuse  with  mist-like  glimmer  of  repose. 
So  hushed  this  chamber,  and  so  rapt  this  tide 
Of  visible  calm,  that  blessed  visions  rise 
Of  the  Great  City  of  Peace  beyond  the  skies, 
Of  crystal  waters  that  perpetual  glide 
From  out  the  Throne,  swift  light  descending  light 
Forever  and  forever,  with  a  sound 
Of  inconceivable  music  music-drowned 
In  rain  of  benediction  from  the  might 
And  majesty  of  ONE  enthroned  above,  — 
The  Light  of  Light,  whose  Name  of  Names   is 
Love  ! 


IN  SPEING-TIME. 

A  LL  rosy-white  the  orchard  shows, 
**•     All  blossom-sweet  the  west  wind  blows, 
And  sights  and  scents  together  bring 
To  yearning  hearts  the  joy  of  Spring. 

Through  sunny  vapors  streams  the  sun, 
And  lights  and  showers  blend  in  one  ; 
The  fragrant  rain  through  fragrance  falls 
And  grape-vines  bud  on  sheltering  walls. 

Out-warbling  from  his  generous  throat, 
The  golden  robin's  golden  note 
Calls  to  the  lily  and  the  rose 
Still  greenly  hid  in  leafy  close. 

Hills  capped  with  silence,  as  with  snow, 
Catch  laughter  faint  of  brooks  below  ; 
With  starry  dandelions  gay 
The  meadows  mimic  night  by  day. 

Dim-cloistered  in  the  odorous  wood, 
A  shadow-loving  sisterhood, 
The  wild  flowers  that  the  sun  forswear 
Are  pale  as  pious  nuns  with  prayer. 

199 


200  IN  SPRING-TIME. 

Like  one  refreshed  by  balmy  sleep, 
Her  inmost  bosom  warm  and  deep 
A-throb  with  beauty  yet  unborn, 
Earth  breathes  away  the  blissful  morn. 

Erom  sunny  nooks  that  dream  of  bloom 
To  where  gray  moss  o'ergrows  the  tomb, 
Floats  everywhere  that  precious  breath  — 
The  Life  that  ever  conquers  Death. 

This  is  the  joy  of  Spring,  indeed  ; 
The  witness  glad  to  Word  and  Creed ; 
The  lovely  Parable  of  Earth 
That  pointeth  to  Immortal  Birth ! 


HOSPITALITY. 

TO  MRS.  H.  E.  H. 

WEET  friend,  whose  hospitality 

Pervades  your  house  like  summer  air, 
And  at  whose  board  I  ever  find 
A  welcome  marvellously  kind 

From  all  the  dear  ones  gathered  there ; 

How  often  when  I  take  my  place 

One  thought  of  swift  regret  will  come, 

That  to  your  circle  I  can  bring 

In  glad  return  no  precious  thing 
To  swell  your  pleasure's  happy  sum  j 

Nothing  but  simple  loving  rhymes 

For  some  occasion  like  to-day, 
When  any  one,  however  dull, 
Some  common  flowers  of  thought  might  cull 

And  weave  them  in  a  birthday  lay. 

And  this  is  all  I  bring  you  now, 

A  song  of  little  worth,  indeed, 
Whose  end  a  version  poor  will  prove 
Of  one  true  poem  that  I  love  — 

A  poem  that  I  daily  read  — 

201 


202  HOSPITALITY. 

Of  manhood  high,  and  womanhood 

Its  equal  match  in  loveliness ; 
Of  girlhood  ripening  hour  by  hour 
As  simply  as  a  wayside  flower 

That  knows  and  knows  not  heaven's  caress  ; 

Of  childhood  gay  as  butterflies 

That  frolic  as  they  lightly  roam  ; 
Of  babyhood,  whose  dimpled  hand 
Holds  all  the  house  in  dear  command,  — 
The  poem  of  your  own  sweet  home ! 


TWO   MEN. 


T    OSSES  on  losses,  fast  they  came  ; 
"     Men  said :  "  There 's  left  him  but  his  name ; 
But  that  is  free  from  blot  or  blame." 

Despairing,  bowed  with  care  and  dread, 

As  if  he  heard,  he  raised  his  head ; 

"  Thank  God,  I  have  my  name  ! "  he  said. 


ii. 

A  palace  ;  gilded  ease  and  glare  ; 

Loud  jests  and  laughter ;  banquets  rare  ; 

Dark  hints  of  foul  beneath  the  fair. 

At  daybreak,  on  a  sleepless  bed, 
He  moaned  and  turned  his  fevered  head ; 
"  I  ?ve  all  things  but  a  name !  "  he  said. 

203 


MY   NAMESAKE. 

silvery  clouds  the  silvery  showers 
Fell  o'er  the  earth  ; 
Stole  softly  forth  the  faint,  sweet  flowers 
Of  April  birth. 

An  April  babe  my  namesake  came 

One  April  day ; 
Just  claimed  on  earth  her  place,  her  name, 

And  fled  away. 

A  few  soft  sighings  of  the  breath 

And  it  was  spent ; 
Too  frail  for  life,  too  sweet  for  death, 

She  came  and  went. 

So  brief  a  stay,  so  swift  a  flight, 

Could  scarce  be  felt ; 
Thus  snowflakes  falling  light  as  light 

Touch  earth  and  melt. 

If  verily  she  hath  been  here 

We  hardly  know ; 
The  frailest  blossoms  of  the  year 

Her  days  outgrow. 
204 


MY  NAMESAKE.  205 

Sweet  month  of  soft  unsorrowing  sighs 

And  fragrant  breath ; 
Of  tender,  showery,  brooding  skies  ; 

Of  life,  not  death  ; 

Her  faint  sweet  memory  entomb 

In  violets, 
The  pathos  of  whose  faint  perfume 

Breathes  no  regrets  ! 

How  strange  to  enter  Paradise, 

As  she  to-day, 
With  not  one  tear  in  those  sweet  eyes 

To  wipe  away ! 


VALENTINE   TO   A   PRIEST. 
(H.  E.  H.) 

A  LL  ministries  of  love  are  thine, 
•*•*•     Of  human  love  and  love  Divine ; 
With  wife  of  more  than  maiden  charms, 
And  children  sheltered  in  thy  arms, 
And  cure  of  souls  in  that  vast  fold 
Whose  millions  never  can  be  told, 
Thou  verily  art  made  acquaint, 
Beloved  priest,  with  this  day's  Saint  — 

Saint  Valentine ! ' 
206 


THE    SINGER. 

OHE  sits  and  sings  in  the  room  below, 
^     A  tender  ballad  of  love  and  woe 
Wedded  to  music  plaintive  and  slow. 

And  who  would  dream  that  her  heart  is  gay, 
While  she  singeth  so  sad  a  lay  — 
Seeming  to  pour  her  soul  away  ? 

Why  not  ?     She  doeth  her  heart  no  wrong  ; 
Lips  joy-laden  the  whole  day  long 
Well  can  afford  to  sorrow  in  song  ! 

So  keep  her,  Heaven  !  nor  let  her  know 
Other  sighings  than  those  that  flow, 
Khythmic,  through  ballads  of  love  and  woe. 

207 


THE   EOSE    OF   JERICHO. 

TO    E.    J.    P. 

"Y70IJ  love  a  legend.     Here  is  one  : 
•*•       When  Joseph  warned  in  dreams  by  night 
Took  Mary  and  her  Blessed  Son 

And  they  to  Egypt  made  their  flight, 

As  through  the  desert  wild  they  went 

By  angels  led  and  undismayed, 
A  flower  sprang  up  of  sweetest  scent 

Where'er  the  Virgin's  steps  were  stayed. 

'T  is  fabled  that  this  flower  since  then 
Blooms  only  on  some  feast-day  high, 

And  chiefly  when  comes  round  again 
The  Feast  of  Christ's  Nativity. 

Be  this  sweet  legend  true  or  no, 

'T  is  true  that  Mary  went  that  way, 

And  true  the  Rose  of  Jericho 

Blooms  in  my  thoughts  this  Christmas  Day. 

208 


THE  ROSE  OF  JERICHO.  209 

And  in  the  fragrant  flower  I  find, 
My  darling  child,  a  lesson  true  ; 

A  sermon  and  a  song  enshrined 
That  I  in  love  unfold  for  you. 

When  through  life's  desert  places  led 

By  holy  angels  unaware, 
Intent  on  mercy's  deeds  you  tread 

And  make  God's  needy  ones  your  care, 

If  in  your  arms  the  Christ  Child  dear 

You  carry  wheresoe'er  you  go, 
In  every  place  earth's  wilds  to  cheer 

Will  spring  the  Rose  of  Jericho. 


"PEACE,   TEOUBLED   SOUL." 


O  WEET  grows  the  world  to-day  and  fair, 
^     Seen   through    the    Spring-time's    lovely 

sheen  — 
A  tender  mist  of  golden-green 

That  veils  the  earth  and  fills  the  air. 


And  lightly,  softly  blows  the  breeze, 
With  blossom-odors  interblent, 
And  interwoven  with  their  scent 

The  murmurous  hum  of  golden  bees. 

And  mingling  with  their  braided  balm, 
A  voice  of  dreamy  sweetness  near 
Half  sings,  half  sighs,  in  plaintive  cheer, 

A  strain  that  linketh  calm  with  calm. 

On  Nature's  heart  mine  own  I  rest ; 
"  Peace,  troubled  soul,"  she  soft  entreats  : 
"  Peace,  troubled  soul,"  the  voice  repeats, 

In  the  low  psalm  that  suits  me  best. 
210 


"PEACE,    TROUBLED  SOUL."  211 

And  through  the  mist  of  faith  I  see 
A  vision  fair  of  One  who  stands 
And  stretches  out  His  pierced  hands, 

Saying,  "  My  peace  1  give  to  thee." 


IN  MEMOEIAM. 

(A.  B.  M.  entered  into  rest,  Oct.  8,  1883.) 

T   WATCH  them  passing  to  and  fro, 

A  little  band  of  maidens  fair  ; 
I  count  each  sweet  familiar  face, 
But  one  I  look  for  is  not  there. 

How  strange  it  seems  her  face  to  miss 
With  bloom  of  youth  and  health  aglow  ; 

So  strong,  so  glad  her  hold  on  life, 

Who  would  have  dreamed  she  first  would  go  ? 

Amidst  this  group  of  happy  girls 

Her  bright,  responsive,  buoyant  ways 

Winged  every  task,  and  seemed  to  add 
New  sunshine  to  the  sunniest  days. 

Thus  sped  the  gay,  unconscious  hours, 

Yet  oft  within  the  sacred  fane 
Their  voices  mingled  in  the  chant, 

And  it  was  hers  that  led  the  strain. 
212 


IN  MEMORIAM.  213 

And  in  her  wanderings  ere  she  died 

She  dreamed  herself  in  church  once  more, 

And  said  Our  Father  and  the  Creed, 
Then  sang  the  Gloria  o'er  and  o'er. 

Sweeter  than  fahled  song  of  hird 
That  drifting  with  the  tide  expires, 

Those  failing  notes  her  watchers  heard  — 
The  hymn  of  God's  celestial  choirs. 

So  singing  down  the  tide  of  time 
Death  came  to  her  in  sweet  disguise, 

And  so  her  bright  young  soul  passed  on 
Melodious  into  Paradise. 

Still  in  the  one  Communion  vast, 
The  Church  at  rest  beyond  the  veil, 

She  sings  with  you,  O  little  band, 
The  Glorias  that  shall  never  fail. 


THE   HOME  AMONG   THE   HILLS. 

TV  /[  ID  WAY  between  these  towering  hills 
^'-^      One  lonely  human  dwelling  j 
The  circling  acres,  culture  swept, 
Its  little  history  telling! 

On  either  hand  the  meadow  land 
Makes  fair  the  mountain  spaces 

With  golden  reach  of  buttercups 
And  silver  drift  of  daisies. 

Behind,  the  massive  forest  wall ; 

Before,  the  river  running  ; 
And  close  about  the  little  cot 

The  signs  of  human  cunning : 

The  signs  so  homely  and  so  sweet 

That  draw  us  to  each  other, 
And  make  the  daily  life  of  man 

Familiar  to  his  brother. 

We  know  the  hand  at  early  morn 
That  cottage  hearth-fire  kindling ; 

We  watched  the  dropping  of  this  corn  ; 
We  wait  its  purple  spindling  ! 
214 


THE  HOME  AMONG  THE  HILLS.  215 

A  part  have  we  in  all  the  toils 
Of  these  our  mountain  neighbors ; 

A  portion  in  the  precious  gain 

Heaven  winnows  from  their  labors. 

We  taste  their  trials,  share  their  feasts, 

And  with  a  passing  wonder 
We  linger  even  while  we  go, 

Their  choice,  their  lot  to  ponder. 

Amid  the  grandeur  and  the  gloom 

On  every  hand  abiding, 
A  flower  of  human  blossoming 

This  little  home  is  hiding. 

What  tender  wind  of  Providence 

The  small  seed  hither  drifted 
Where  yet  these  shadows  vast  may  fall 

On  village  spires  uplifted  ? 

Less  awful  seem  those  hills  august, 

Less  lone  the  valley's  glooming, 
Since  in  this  wilderness  the  rose 

Of  human  life  is  blooming ! 


AN  EASTEK  INCIDENT. 

T  N  moonlight  the  world  was  sleeping, 
A      As  it  slept  on  that  night  of  old 
When  the  wonderful  angel  descended 

And  the  stone  from  the  sepulchre  rolled  ; 
The  vigil  of  Easter  was  ended, 
The  hour  of  midnight  tolled. 

In  one  of  the  countless  chambers 

Where  slumber  held  its  sway, 
Dreaming  perhaps  of  Easter 

A  tranquil  sleeper  lay, 
When  the  whisper  of  wings  beside  her 

Wafted  her  dreams  away. 

Is  it  a  bird  ?  she  wondered, 

Lifting  her  startled  head 
As  she  heard  the  delicate  flitting 

Circle  around  her  bed, 
And  anon  against  the  casement 

The  sweep  of  those  wings  outspread. 
216 


^LV  EASTER  INCIDENT.  2l7 

It  was  not  the  palpitant  flutter 

Of  some  poor  terrified  thing 
That  beateth  the  bars  of  its  prison, 

And  bruiseth  its  tender  wing, 
But  an  eager,  exultant  motion, 

Glad  as  the  pulse  of  spring. 

The  flash  of  a  thought,  and  the  listener 

Had  lighted  her  lamp  anew, 
And  wide  on  the  shadowy  chamber 

Its  fullest  radiance  threw ; 
When  straightway  toward  its  shining 

The  beautiful  visitant  flew. 


A  moth,  a  marvel  of  measure 

From  tip  to  tip  of  its  wings, 
Painted  in  colors  resplendent  — 

Lightest  and  fairest  of  things  ; 
Type  of  the  Resurrection, 

The  angel's  own  message  it  brings  ! 

Did  the  angel  himself,  descending 

And  passing  through  hamlet  and  town 

To  waken  once  more  the  faithful, 
Their  sorrow  with  joy  to  crown, 

Touch  with  finger  transcendent 
That  tiniest  cradle  brown  ? 


218  AN  EASTER  INCIDENT. 

There  lay  the  chrysalis  empty, 
Frail  shell  of  the  past,  outworn  ; 

Here  was  the  living  creature 
Exulting  in  beauty  new-born, 

And  trembling  as  if  to  utter 
The  truth  of  the  Easter  morn  I 


THE  BOY  WHO  CAKKIED  THE  CKOSS. 

(W.  A.  D.  W.  entered  into  rest  July  13,  1883,  aged  14  years.) 

TTENCEFOBTH  I  shall  always  see  him 
*  •*      As  he  looked  when  he  led  the  way 
For  the  children  marching  churchward 
Upon  some  festal  day  ; 

As  I  saw  him  that  first  fair  Easter 

In  the  light  of  the  "  day  of  days," 
When  they  entered  God's  gates  with  thanksgiving, 

And  into  His  courts  with  praise. 

He  was  born  to  be  a  leader, 

I  thought,  as  he  led  that  throng, 
Unconscious  of  self  and  comely, 

Modest  and  noble  and  strong. 

Princely  in  stature  and  bearing 

And  steadfast  of  hand  and  eye, 
He  carried  the  Church's  standard, 

The  Cross  of  Jesus,  on  high. 

219 


220     THE  BOY  WHO   CARRIED   THE   CROSS. 

On  his  fair,  unsullied  forehead 

Once  signed  with  that  sign  of  grace, 

I  could  almost  see  its  glory 
Lighting  his  lovely  face. 

First  and  foremost  by  virtue 
Of  all  that  youth  could  claim, 

He  was  first  and  foremost  also 
In  a  life  that  knew  no  blame. 

So  brilliant  his  future's  promise 
Fame  must  be  his  portion,  we  said ; 

But  the  crown  of  Christian  triumph 
Already  ennobled  his  head. 

Unselfish,  beloved  and  ardent 

Whether  in  labor  or  play, 
He  carried  his  dear  Lord's  honor 

Wherever  he  wended  his  way. 

And  if  he  had  lived  to  gather 
The  laurels  of  all  the  earth, 

And  all  the  winds  of  heaven 
Had  wafted  to  men  his  worth ; 

If  he  had  lived,  and  dying 

Been  mourned  as  a  nation's  loss, 

I  still  should  have  seen  but  this  vision 
Of  the  boy  who  carried  the  Cross. 


T 


A  GLIMPSE   OF  HEAVEN. 

HE  clouds  are  breaking  —  radiant  scene ! 

Blue,  blue  as  only  heaven  is  blue  ; 
The  heaven  that  Heaven  itself  smiles  through 
Unfolds  its  depths  serene. 


Oh  fair  as  Hope  the  rainbow  gleams 
The  tempest's  angry  frown  above, 
But  lovely  as  the  Face  of  Love 

Yon  revelation  seems ! 
221 


SONG. 

^T O-MORROW  has  trouble  to  lend 
•*•       To  all  who  lack  to-day ; 
Go,  borrow  it  —  borrow,  griefless  heart, 
An  thou  with  thy  peace  wilt  pay  ! 

To-morrow  has  trouble  to  lend, 

An  endless,  endless  store  ; 
But  I  have  as  much  as  heart  can  hold  — 

Why  should  I  borrow  more  ! 
222 


WHITE  AZALEAS. 

A  Z  ALE  AS  —  whitest  of  white ! 
"•     White  as  the  drifted  snow 
Fresh-fallen  out  of  the  night, 

Before  the  coming  glow 
Tinges  the  morning  light ; 

When  the  light  is  like  the  snow, 

White, 

And  the  silence  is  like  the  light ; 
Light,  and  silence,  and  snow, 
All  — white! 

White  !  not  a  hint 
Of  the  creamy  tint 

A  rose  will  hold, 

The  whitest  rose,  in  its  inmost  fold ; 
Not  a  possible  blush  ; 
White  as  an  embodied  hush  ; 
A  very  rapture  of  white  ; 
A  wedlock  of  silence  and  light. 
White,  white  as  the  wonder  undefiled 

Of  Eve  just  wakened  in  Paradise ; 
Nay,  white  as  the  angel  of  a  child 

That  looks  into  God's  own  eyes ! 

223 


SUMMER-TIME. 

O  UMMER'S  breath  has  kissed  the  lovely  bloom 
^        From  the  apple-trees  : 
Out  of  flower-cups,  dripping  with  perfume, 
Sip  the  honey-bees. 

Where  the  vines  are  strung  with  roses  red 

Dart  the  humming-birds ; 
Winds,  like  lovers,  in  the  boughs  o'erhead 

Whisper  tender  words. 

Clover-crested  are  the  waves  of  grass 

Where  the  little  feet 
Frolic,  deep  in  coolness,  as  I  pass 

From  the  sunny  street. 

WThen  at  eve  o'er  field  and  fen  and  brake 

Misty  curtains  fall, 
Fire-flies,  in  their  meteor  dances,  make 

Nightly  carnival. 
224 


SWEET-PEAS. 

O  WEET-PEAS  !  Sweet-Peas  ! 

^        The  very  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things  ! 

Airily  poised,  like  butterfly  wings, 
On  the  slender  stem. 
And  now  they  brood  in  a  still  delight ; 

And  anon,  as  the  light  wind  touches  them, 
They  tremble  and  flutter,  as  feigning  flight, 
In  coyness  —  not  affright. 
And  lest  they  fly, 
The  tricksy  Zephyr  passes  by 
With  a  little  moan  of  make-believe, 

And  pretends  to  die 
Among  the  cherry-trees ! 
They  only  smile  —  they  will  not  grieve, 
The  gay  and  shy 
Sweet-Peas  ! 

Sweet-Peas  !  Sweet-Peas ! 
The  very  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things ! 
Perfect  pink  and  perfect  white ; 
Exhaling  a  perfume  so  rare,  so  pure, 
It  ceaseth  never  to  allure, 
Nor  faileth  ever  to  satisfy  ; 

225 


226  S  \VEET-PEAS. 

Like  a  breath  of  immortality, 
Like  a  hint  of  youth  unspent  for  aye ; 
Of  love  —  Ah,  well-a-day  ! 
Say,  ye  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things, 

Sweet-Peas, 

What  are  ye  likest  ?  —  what  like  ye  ? 
The  dream  of  Beauty,  the  wonder  that  clings 
To  snowy-lidded  Innocence  — 
These  mystic  nebulae 
(Souls  of  flowers  to  be), 
Lightly  drifted  hence, 
And  mingling  straightway  they  became 
Visible  in  pink  and  white, 

In  dainty-delicate  forms  like  these, 
And  gat  themselves  a  name  ; 

Dew-christened  in  laver  of  morning  light, 
"  Sweet-Peas ! " 

Sweet-Peas !  Sweet-Peas ! 
Here  is  a  handful  for  her  to  wear 
Who  is  sweet  like  them,  and  more  stately-fair. 
Lie,  nosegay  of  blushes,  mid  snows  of  lace, 
And  match  the  bloom  of  her  maiden  face 
When  cometh  her  own  sweetheart  to  share 
The  posy  modest  and  debonair, 
Whose  dear  bestowal  shall  bring  him  ease 
And  sweet  assurances, 
Dispelling  sweet  anxieties, 
Sweet-Peas ! 


S  WEET-PEAS.  227 

And  will  ye  have  a  sweetheart  too, 

Sweet-Peas,  Sweet-Peas  ? 
Then  here  ?s  Zephyr  come  back  to  woo, 

If  you  please  ! 
Nay,  but  Zephyr  is  a  flirt ! 

Make  again  your  winged  threat 
Till  in  very  truth  he  fret  — 
What's  the  hurt?  — 
And  die  among  the  cherry-trees 
For  love  of  you, 

Sweet-Peas ! 


MIDSUMMER  MORNING. 

AY  rises  veiled  in  amber  mists 

That  swathe  the  hill  and  shroud  the  plain 
And  in  the  breathless  air,  unstirred, 
The  trees  are  dripping  as  with  rain. 

Like  tents  along  the  emerald  sward 
Pitched  by  the  fairies  of  the  night, 

In  the  wet  grass  ephemeral  webs 

Are  scattered,  gleaming  silver  white. 

Dew-drenched  the  flowers ;  the  heavy  vines 
Hang  from  the  wall,  or  trail  the  ground ; 

And  lifeless  seems  the  garden-place, 
So  lately  filled  with  murmurous  sound. 

But  slowly,  slowly  lifts  the  mist  — 
From  heaven's  blue  face  it  curls  away ; 

And  through  the  trembling,  glistening  leaves 
The  glorious  sunbeams  flame  and  play  ! 

228 


DAY-LILIES. 

O  SUMMER  day, 
Delay!  delay! 

One  waving  of  thy  brooding  wing, 
One  stirring  of  thy  hazy  wing, 

And  noontide  light  and  heat 
Will  find  my  dewy  shadow-lair, 

And  burn  the  coolness  from  the  grasses 

That  swathe  my  feet 

In  rank  and  billowy  masses  ; 
And  to  this  claustral  twilight  bring 
The  sun's  profanest  glare. 

O  summer  day, 
Delay !  delay ! 
Let  naked  hill  and  bare  brown  field 

Parch  in  thy  torrid  ray, 
So  this  dim  nook  be  unrevealed, 

Where  I, 
Deliciously  concealed, 

Among  the  lilies  lie. 
The  delicate  Day-lilies ! 
The  white  and  wonderful  lilies ! 
My  dark  green  haunt  so  still  is 


230  DA  Y-LILIES. 

The  wildest  birdling  dare  not  sing, 
Nor  insect  beat  a  gossamer  wing, 
Nor  zephyr  lift  the  lightest  thing, 

Here,  where  the  lustrous  lilies, 

The  clear,  resplendent  lilies, 
Pour  out  their  heavenly-sweet  perfume, 

And  with  their  snowiness, 
In  clusters  chaste,  illume 

.This  dusk  recess. 

Soft-footed  Silence,  royal  nun  ! 

In  this  thy  humid,  emerald  cell 

Forever  dwell ! 

These  flowers  supernal  ever  shine, 
Pure-flamed,  before  thy  virgin  shrine ! 
Here,  one  by  one, 

Tell  o'er  thy  glistering,  roral  beads, — 

A  rosary  strung  on  tangled  weeds 

And  blades  and  stems  that  intertwist. 
The  breath  of  lilies  be  thy  prayers, 
Sweet-odored,  wafted  unawares 
Up  through  the  morning's  lucent  airs 

And  evening's  pallid  mist ! 
The  glittering  stars  shall  o'er  thee  pass, 
Deep-pillowed  in  the  heavy  grass ; 

These  broad,  smooth  lily-leaves  shall  be 

A  glossy  coverlet  for  thee, 

Thy  prayers  and  penance  done, 
O  royal  nun ! 


DA  Y-L1LIES.  231 

By  day  or  night, 

In  dark  or  light, 
Thy  fragrant  shrine  shall  be  the  same  ; 

These  slender  tapers  lambent  still, 

Nor  blazing  sun,  nor  mildew  chill, 
Shall  quench  their  alabaster  flame. 

A  gleam,  as  of  a  crystal  wand  ! 

And  Day  peers  in  with  curious  face ; 
The  jealous  sunshine,  stealing  round, 

Doth  warily  chase 

The  cool,  dank  shadows  on  the  ground ; 
The  cloister-walls  no  longer  stand ; 

A  garish  glory  fills  the  space, 
And  lights  the  lush  grass,  loose  and  long; 
And  startled  by  the  wild  bird's  song, 

Soft-footed  Silence  flees  apace ; 
But  still  serene  the  lilies  shine, 
Pure-flamed,  before  her  ruined  shrine ! 


HELIOTROPE. 


O  WEETEST,  sweetest  Heliotrope  ! 
^     In  the  sunset's  dying  splendor, 
In  the  trance  of  twilight  tender, 
All  my  senses  I  surrender 

To  the  subtle  spells  that  bind  me : 
The  dim  air  swimmeth  in  my  sight 
With  visions  vague  of  soft  delight ; 

Shadowy  hands  with  endless  chain 
Of  purple-clustered  bloom  enwind  me ; 

Garlands  drenched  in  dreamy  rain 
Of  perfume  passionate  as  sorrow 
And  sad  as  Love's  to-morrow  ! 
Bewildering  music  fills  mine  ears  — 
Faint  laughter  and  commingling  tears  — 
Flowing  like  delicious  pain 
Through  my  drowsy  brain. 
Bosomed  in  the  blissful  gloom 

Meseems  I  sink  on  slumberous  slope 
Buried  deep  in  purple  bloom, 
Sweetest,  sweetest  Heliotrope ! 
232 


DAY-DBEAMING. 

HOW  better  am  I 
Than  a  butterfly  ? 
Here,  as  the  noiseless  hours  go  by, 
Hour  by  hour, 

I  cling  to  my  fancy's  half-blown  flower ; 
Over  its  sweetness  I  brood  and  brood, 
And  scarcely  stir  though  sounds  intrude 
That  would  trouble  and  fret  another  mood 
Less  divine 
Than  mine ! 

Who  cares  for  the  bees ! 

I  will  take  my  ease, 

Dream  and  dream  as  long  as  I  please ; 

Hour  by  hour 

TVith  love-wings  fanning  my  sweet,  sweet  flower ! 

Gather  your  honey  and  hoard  your  gold 

Through  spring  and  summer,  and  hive  through 

cold! 

I  will  cling  to  my  flower  till  it  is  mould, 
Breathe  one  sigh 
And  die ! 

233 


SONG. 

'"PHE  wind  blows  out  of  the  west, 
•*•       The  wind  is  merry  and  free ; 
It  brings  fair  weather  for  us,  love, 
Fair  weather  for  thee  and  me. 

The  sun  shines  out  of  the  east, 
And  dances  over  the  sea  ; 

The  world  's  aglitter  for  us,  love, 
Aglitter  for  thee  and  me. 

And  now  the  world  's  a-dusk, 
The  nest  unstirred  on  the  tree ; 

The  fair  moon  hangs  at  its  full,  love, 
And  shineth  for  thee  and  me. 
234 


INCOGNITA. 

"\  7EILED  in  verse,  who  knows 
*  Whether  I  smile  or  weep  ? 

Slippered  in  fancies,  who  can  tell 
What  measure  of  step  I  keep  ? 

Lift  the  veil,  dear  Love  ! 

To  thee  I  will  show  my  face ; 
Hark,  and  thine  ear  shall  surely  hear 

My  heart's  inaudible  pace ! 

235 


JUNE  SONGS. 
I. 

CAPRICE. 

/""PHE  rose  is  dead  in  my  Lady's  bower ; 
-*-       The  love  is  dead  in  my  Lady's  heart ! 
The  rose  was  only  a  summer  flower, 
Born  to  die  in  a  summer  hour  — 
To  yield  its  life  to  the  passionate  shower 
That  tore  its  radiant  leaves  apart. 

The  rose-tree  will  blossom  again,  I  know, 
But  what  care  I  for  to-morrow's  flower  ? 

Some  idle  wind  will  capriciously  blow ; 

The  rain's  wild  feet  will  trample  it ;  oh, 

Pluck  it  who  will !  for  myself  I  go 

And  leave  the  rose  in  my  Lady's  bower  ! 

II. 

CONSTANCY. 

I  RIFLED  a  leaf  from  the  heart  of  a  rose  :  — 

Believe  !  believe ! 

Though  love  comes  lightly,  not  lightly  it  goes ; 
236 


JUNE  SONGS.  237 

It  steals  through  our  veins  and  our  youth's  white 

flower 

Blossoms  in  crimson  from  that  hour ; 
Life  of  our  life,  it  cannot  deceive ! 
I  love  thee,  I  love  thee,  believe ! 

Oh,  fancies  are  fitful  as  breezes  that  blow  — 

Believe !  believe ! 

They  come  to  us  lightly,  more  lightly  they  go ; 
Diviner  than  duty,  and  stronger  than  will, 
Love,  the  sweet  mystery,  rules  me  still  j 
Tyranny  tender,  it  cannot  deceive ; 
I  love  thee,  I  love  thee,  believe ! 

III. 

PETITION. 

ONLY  the  roses  will  hear ; 

Dear, 

Only  the  roses  will  see ! 
This  once  —  just  this  ! 
Ah,  the  roses  I  wis 
They  envy  me  ! 

Here  is  a  half-blown  spray ; 

Say 

This  shall  Love's  anadem  be  ! 
A  rose-strung  wreath 
For  thy  brow,  and  beneath 
A  rose  for  me  ! 


238  JUNE  SONGS. 

IV. 
EXPECTANCY. 

SUMMER,  rain  me  a  rain  of  rose-leaves ; 

Only  on  rose-leaves  she  shall  tread  ! 
Summer,  rain  me  a  rain  of  rose-leaves 

Over  the  banquet  Love  hath  spread. 

Never  Orient  feast  so  splendid, 
Viands  so  costly,  wines  so  rare ; 

Never  showers  of  bloom  descended 
Veiling  a  princess  half  so  fair ! 

Summer,  make  her  a  couch  of  roses, 
Pillows  of  rose-leaves  lightly  prest; 

Odors  sweet  when  my  Love  reposes 
Dreamily  drifting  round  her  rest ! 

Come,  Beloved,  the  feast  awaits  thee : 
Cruelly  traitor  moments  flee  ! 

Is  it  sorrow  or  joy  belates  thee  ? 

Heedest  thou  aught  unshared  by  me ! 

Coming  I  O  rapture  more  than  mortal ! 

Softly  the  gates  of  bliss  unclose ; 
Silence,  guarding  the  sacred  portal, 

Wears  in  her  breast  the  symbol  rose ! 


QUEEN  NATUEE. 

HIS  is  her  palace  azure-domed  and  fair 

Where  lavish  Nature  feasts  the  royal  Year 
And  Cleopatra-like  dissolves  the  pearls 
Of  winter  in  the  amber  cup  of  spring. 

239 


LOVE'S   VISITATION. 

T  X  7 AS  ever  yet  the  world  so  fair ! 

The  long,  sweet  day  !  the  tender  night ! 
A  fragrant  thrill  pervades  the  air  — 
Spring's  ever  newly  waked  delight. 

It  floods  the  azure  realm  above ; 

It  quickens  all  the  sod  below ; 
It  is  the  very  soul  of  Love, 

And  song  and  bloom  its  overflow. 

No  living  thing  unconscious  named 
But  knows  the  depth  of  this  delight, 

And  filled  with  joy  and  unashamed 
Leaves  joy  to  fashion  joy  aright. 

The  bluebird's  note  is  all  his  own ; 

The  thrush  one  matchless  song  repeats ; 
And  murmurs  Love  translates  alone 

Hint  how  the  brooding  dove-heart  beats. 

At  eve  the  stars  grow  dim  with  dreams  ; 

At  morn  the  wandering  waysides  blush ; 
More  sweet  the  brook's  low  babble  seems, 

Wed  with  the  woodland's  happy  hush. 
240 


LOVE'S    VISITATION.  241 

Beneath  the  sapphire-gleaming  arch 

Like  mated  swans  the  white  clouds  sail ; 

And  consciously  yon  lovely  larch 
Lets  down  her  swaying  vernal  veil. 

And  picturing  scenes  where  lance  and  spur 
For  Love  their  utmost  valor  spent, 

Lo  !  in  the  fields  a  golden  stir  — 
The  dandelions'  tournament. 

As  on  the  wings  of  old  romance 

The  pageant  of  the  fields  shall  pass  ; 

Where  now  the  golden  flowers  glance 
Pale  phantoms  float  across  the  grass. 

But  each  returning  Spring  of  time 
Love  —  Love  shall  still  be  born  anew  ; 

The  spirit  of  an  heavenly  clime 

Crown  earth  with  bridal  bloom  and  dew. 


TO  A   SLEEPING  CHILD. 

"JVT  OT  thus,  0  joyous  child,  repose 

•*•  ^     With  crossed  hands  on  thy  baby  breast 

Pathetic  attitude  of  those 

Who  wake  not,  stir  not  from  their  rest ! 

With  dimpled  arm  thy  head  surround, 
Like  as  a  bird  with  bonny  wing ; 

Sure  as  a  bird  at  morn  to  bound 

From  this  thy  nest  and,  birdlike,  sing ! 
242 


A  VIGIL. 


shore,  and  desolate  sky 
Unquickened  by  a  star ; 
Sad  sea  where  wandering  sails  are  lost 
In  night  afar ! 

No  human  presence  sweet, 
Nor  other  sound  beside 
Save  that  to  silence  near  akin  — 
The  ebbing  tide. 

Only  a  lonely  wreck 

High  on  the  lonely  beach, 
Whose  hopelessness  defies  at  last 
The  breaker's  reach. 

O  Earth  that  keeps  no  watch, 

0  Heaven  that  lights  no  star, 
HE  is  who  cares  for  every  sail, 
Each  broken  spar ! 

243 


THE   CEICKETS. 

T)IPE,  little  minstrels  of  the  waning  year, 

In  gentle  concert  pipe  ! 
Pipe  the  warm  noons  ;  the  mellow  harvest  near ; 

The  apples  dropping  ripe ; 

The  tempered  sunshine  and  the  softened  shade ; 

The  trill  of  lonely  bird  ; 
The  sweet  sad  hush  on  Nature's  gladness  laid ; 

The  sounds  through  silence  heard ! 

Pipe  tenderly  the  passing  of  the  year ; 

The  summer's  brief  reprieve ; 
The  dry  husk  rustling  round  the  yellow  ear ; 

The  chill  of  dawn  and  eve ! 

Pipe  the  untroubled  trouble  of  the  year ; 

Pipe  low  the  painless  pain ; 
Pipe  your  unceasing  melancholy  cheer ; 

The  year  is  in  the  wane ! 
244 


TO   THE  BLUE   GENTIAN. 

T  7  NFOLD,  O  fairest  Flower,  and  share 
^     Tlie  benediction  of  this  air 
That  softly  floweth  everywhere, 
And  blesseth  most  the  things  most  fair  ! 

Twice  welcome  flowers  when  flowers  grow  few ; 
Thrice  welcome,  thou,  of  heavenly  hue  — 
The  rarest,  tenderest  shade  of  blue 
That  Earth's  dear  bosom  ever  knew ! 

The  golden-rod  resigns  his  plume, 
And  all  frail  beauty  seeks  a  tomb, 
Bequeathing  thee  more  ample  room 
Wherein  to  set  thy  fairer  bloom. 

Unfold,  thy  gentle  right  to  claim, 
0  Flower  of  softest  tint  and  name ! 
Thy  bashfulness  delays  like  shame, 
Yet  lovelier  makes  thy  lovely  fame. 

To  exile  only  half  resigned, 
Her  locks  with  violet-memories  twined, 
Departing  Summer  turns  to  find 
How  fair  a  thing  she  leaves  behind. 

245 


246  TO   THE  BLUE   GENTIAN. 

And  since  the  Summer  henceward  flies, 
Thou,  darling  of  these  lonely  skies, 
The  dearer  art  to  human  eyes, 
Unfolding  as  a  sweet  surprise ! 


NOTHING  TO  DO. 

A    STEIP  of  snowiest  linen 
*"*•     Half  broidered  and  stamped  in  blue, 
And  the  gleam  of  a  threadless  needle 

Piercing  the  pattern  through  : 
The  needle  is  ready,  yet  the  sweet  little  lady 

Sits  sighing  for  something  to  do. 

Heaped  on  the  table  beside  her 

Blossoms  of  every  hue  ; 
Delicate,  odorous  roses  — 

The  rarest  that  ever  grew : 
The  vase  stands  ready  while  the  sweet  little  lady 

Sits  wishing  for  something  to  do. 

Half  hid  under  flowers  a  volume 

In  daintiest  gold  and  blue, 
Just  parted,  as  if  it  would  open 

At  "  The  Miller's  Daughter  "  for  you  : 
The  book  lies  ready,  yet  the  sweet  little  lady 

Sits  sighing  for  something  to  do. 

247 


248  NOTHING  TO  DO. 

A  silent  harp  in  the  corner, 

And  melodies  old  and  new 
Scattered  in  pretty  disorder  — 

Songs  of  the  false  and  the  true : 
The  harp  stands  readj^  —  still  the  sweet  little  lady 

Sits  longing  for  something  to  do. 

A  sudden  wind-sweep  and  flutter  — 

The  door  wide  open  blew ; 
A  step  in  the  hall,  and  swiftly, 

Like  a  bird,  to  the  threshold  she  flew : 
Blushing,  already  the  sweet  little  lady 

Forgets  she  has  nothing  to  do ! 


THE   COAT. 

TV/TEKCURIUS  wove  a  coat 
-^      Of  the  finest  thread  of  wit ; 
"  Wear  it,"  he  said  to  his  jesting  friends, 
"  You  whom  the  coat  may  fit." 

Now  he  to  whose  lot  it  fell 

Sore  envied  all  the  rest, 
For  strange  to  say  it  gave  the  least  ease 

To  him  whom  it  fitted  best. 

249 


T 


IN  AUTUMN. 

'HE  cool,  bright  days, 

The  calm,  bright  days, 
With  their  liberal-hearted  noons  ! 
The  clear,  still  nights, 
The  restful  nights, 

With  their  greatening  harvest-moons ; 
And  the  ghostly  rustle  of  withered  corn 
Plucked  of  its  ivory  ears  and  shorn 
Of  the  floating  fringes  that  tossed  and  swayed 
When  the  ripening  summer  zephyr  played 
Through   the   ranks    that  shone  in    the   summer 
morn  — 

The  beautiful  corn ! 

The  golden  days  !  the  golden  days  ! 
Warm  with  sunshine  and  dreamy  with  haze ; 
Warm  with  the  sunshine  and  cool  with  the  breeze  ! 

Like  troops  of  tropical  butterflies 
Clouds  of  leaves  from  the  gorgeous  trees 

Flutter  and  fall, 

And  cover  the  earth  with  splendid  dyes 
Matching  the  marvels  of  sunset  skies. 
250 


IN  AUTUMN.  251 

Swell  beyond  swell  the  hills  uplift  — 

The  hills  serene ; 

Slope  beyond  slope  they  ebb  away 
Into  the  distance  azure-gray ; 
And  over  them  all, 

Through  veils  of  amethyst  vaguely  seen 
Magical  lights  incessantly  shift, 

Moved  by  the  wonder  hands  of  Day  — 
Over  the  hills  serene  ! 

No  ripple  breaks 
The  lucid  lakes 
Up  from  whose  margins  the  gay  banks  climb  — 

Into  whose  deeps  the  shadows  descend 
Like  sunken  gardens  in  their  prime, 

Whose  softly-pictured  terraces  end 
In  emerald  grottos  where  Naiads  dream 
While  the  unstirred  rushes  over  them  stream. 
From  the  woodbine  draping  the  cottage  thatch 
The  wandering  winds  as  they  pass, 
Tenderly,  one  by  one,  detach 
Leaves  of  crimson  that  flame  in  the  sun : 

One  by  one, 

Slowly  downward  they  waver,  and  twirl, 
And  alight  on  the  trampled  grass. 
Day  by  day  the  vine-leaves  curl 
Revealing  the  heavily  hanging  grapes 
In  tempting  clusters  of  rarest  shapes, 
That  out  of  the  heart  of  summer  grew ; 


252  IN  AUTUMN. 

Dusky-purple  and  amber- white, 

Warmed  in  the  nooning  and  cooled  in  the  night, 

Mingled  of  honey,  and  sunlight,  and  dew. 
The  breeze  through  the  orchard-alley  sweeps, 
And  russet-brown  leaves  in  dusty  heaps 

Eddy  and  whirl ; 

And  russet-brown  apples,  and  rosy-cheeked, 
Fall  from  the  ruddy  half-rifled  bough, 

Strewing  the  grassy  patch 
With  its  footpath  trail  below, 
Where  the  bare-headed,  sunburnt  farmer's  girl 
Gathers  the  fairest  and  leaves  the  rest 
For  the  gold-brown  bee  in  his  honey  quest, 
And  the  zealous  ants  that  busily  swarm 
Over  the  bruises  mellow  and  warm  ; 
While  chicks  full  feathered  and  yellow-beaked 

Roam  in  the  sunshine  and  leisurely  scratch 
For  the  helpless  worm  withdrawing  its  coil 
Lazily  into  the  loosened  soil. 

Streaming  in  at  the  wide  barn  door 
Warm  lies  the  sun  on  the  well-worn  floor 
Scattered  with  wisps  of  straw  and  grain 
From  the  generous  wain. 
Heaped  high  as  the  rafters  the  sweet-smelling  hay 

O'erhangs  the  bursting  loft, 
And  a  breath  from  the  orchard  croft 
Stirs  the  loosened  spears,  and  they  drop  away 
Noiselessly-soft ! 


IN  AUTUMN.  253 

The  mellow  days !  the  mellow  clays ! 
The  brown  seed  ripens  and  bursts  the  pod ; 

The  brown  seed  ripens,  the  stem  decays, 
The  black  root  rotting  under  the  sod. 
The  lattice  o'er-straggled  by  faded  vines 

Leans  to  its  fall, 

And  here  and  there  by  the  garden  wall 
And  beside  the  late-neglected  walks, 
Amid  blackened  weeds  and  mouldering  stalks 
Where  the  fly  in  his  mail  of  emerald  shines, 

Flowers  of  garish  beauty  bloom 

Like  torches  that  flare  at  the  mouth  of  a  tomb. 
Phantom  of  summer,  silver  fair, 
Peacefully  restless  through  the  air 
With  the  unseen  currents  that  softly  flow 
Drifts  the  thistle-down  to  and  fro. 

The  yellow  days  !  the  yellow  days ! 
Fields  of  stubble  and  naked  ways ! 
The  year's  last  gold 
On  the  uttermost  bough 
Flutters  mournfully  now ! 
The  sumach  that  burned  like  the  bush  of  old 

Is  almost  stripped  of  its  fire ; 
And  trampled  out  by  the  rains  that  beat 
The  sodden  paths  with  their  million  feet 
The  last  bright  hues  expire ! 


THE   BELL   IN  THE   TOWEK. 

T  HEAR  the  bell  in  the  high  church-tower 

Striking  the  hour ; 

The  hushed  Night  hearkens  like  one  who  stands 
In  sudden  awe  with  uplifted  hands. 

A  Spirit  up  in  the  tower  doth  dwell, 

And  when  the  bell 

Peals  out  the  hours  with  a  measured  chime, 
I  hear  him  turning  the  sands  of  time. 

He  says  :  "  Life  dieth  with  every  breath ; " 

Whispers  of  death : 
"  It  is  the  fall  of  the  flower  of  earth  ; 
The  promise-seed  of  immortal  birth." 

He  speaks  to  the  striving  world  below : 

"  Why  do  ye  so  ? 

Will  all  the  treasure  that  hand  can  hold 
Buy  sweeter  sleep  in  the  churchyard  mould  ? 

"  Behold  one  God  over  great  and  small 

Judgeth  ye  all ; 

Ask  Him  for  grace  in  the  morning  light, 
And  pray  for  pardon  and  peace  at  night." 
254 


THE  BELL  IN  THE  TOWER.  255 

Oh,  while  I  listen  my  whole  soul  bows, 

Paying  her  vows, 
And  folly  fleeth  with  sinful  fear 
As  those  clear  bell-strokes  fall  on  my  ear. 

For  not  more  solemn  the  holy  chimes 

In  other  times 

That  help  the  faithful  to  pray  aright, 
And  put  the  spirits  of  air  to  flight. 

And  ever,  ever  would  I  be  near 

Daily  to  hear, 

Daily  and  nightly,  in  work  or  rest, 
The  voice  that  pierces  and  soothes  my  breast. 


THE  FEAST-TIME  OF  THE   YEAK. 

'"PHIS  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year 
•*•       When  hearts  grow  warm  and  home    more 

dear; 

When  Autumn's  crimson  torch  expires 
To  flash  again  in  winter  fires ; 
And  they  who  tracked  October's  flight 
Through  woods  with  gorgeous  hues  bedight, 
In  charmed  circle  sit  and  praise 
The  goodly  log's  triumphant  blaze. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year 

When  Plenty  pours  her  wine  of  cheer, 

And  even  humble  boards  may  spare 

To  poorer  poor  a  kindly  share  ; 

While  bursting  barns  and  granaries  know 

A  richer,  fuller  overflow, 

And  they  who  dwell  in  golden  ease 

Bless  without  toil  yet  toil  to  please. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year : 
The  blessed  Advent  draweth  near. 
256 


THE  FEAST-TIME   OF  THE    YEAR.         257 

Let  rich  and  poor  together  break 
The  bread  of  love  for  Christ's  sweet  sake, 
Against  the  time  when  rich  and  poor 
Must  ope  for  Him  a  common  door, 
Who  comes  a  Guest  yet  makes  a  feast, 
And  bids  the  greatest  and  the  least. 


GOOD-BY. 

"DID  me  Good-By!     No  sweeter  salutation 

Can  friendship  claim ; 
Nor  yet  can  any  language,  any  nation 

A  sweeter  frame. 

It  is  not  final ;  it  forebodes  no  sorrow 

As  some  declare 
Who  born  to  fretting  are  so  prone  to  borrow 

To-morrow's  share. 

"  Good-by  "  is  but  a  prayer,  a  benediction 

From  lips  sincere ; 
And  breathed  by  thine  it  brings  a  sweet  conviction 

That  God  will  hear. 

"Good-by!"     Yes,   "God  be  with  you;"  prayer 
and  blessing 

In  simplest  phrase ; 
Alike  our  need  and  His  dear  care  confessing 

In  all  our  ways. 

However  rare  or  frequent  be  our  meeting, 

However  nigh 
The  last  long  parting  or  the  endless  greeting, 

Bid  me  Good-By ! 

258 


T 


BRIDE  AND  SAINT. 

HEY  should  be  silver  bells  that  ring, 
Lovely  one,  for  thy  wedding  ; 
Silver  bells  the  bells  should  be 
That  ring  for  thee. 


They  should  be  bells  of  purest  gold, 
Sweet  saint,  for  thy  passing  tolled  ; 

Golden  bells  the  bells  should  be 

That  toll  for  thee. 

259 


EOSE  AND   THORN. 

T   HEAKD  Philosophy  sigh, 
A      "  No  rose  is  without  its  thorn ;  " 
And  Faith  made  sweet  reply, 
"  Of  thorns  are  the  roses  born  ! " 
2(JO 


CRADLE   SONGS. 
(WRITTEN  FOR  MRS.  H.  E.  H.) 

I. 

O  LEEP,  sweetest  babe,  and  dream 
^     In  the  red  firelight's  gleam  ; 

The  storm  clouds  fill  the  sky. 
Thou  canst  not  dream  of  harm, 
Soothed  by  the  mother-charm, 

A  tender  lullaby. 

Sleep  !     Though  the  wild  wind  blows 
And  drifts  the  blinding  snows, 

All  feathery  soft  they  lie. 
The  rhythm  of  the  sleet 
Reaches  thy  hushed  retreat, 

A  gentle  lullaby. 

Close  to  thy  mother's  side 
Sleep,  warm  and  satisfied. 

How  sweet  thy  baby  sigh ! 
Dear  dove  I  the  storm  is  o'er ; 
The  waves  lisp  on  the  shore 

A  ceaseless  lullaby. 

261 


262  CRADLE  SONGS. 

Sleep !     Earth  no  more  is  drear 
Since  that  sweet  Babe  was  here 

Whose  angels  thronged  the  sky. 
Sleep !     Only  mothers  know 
That  night  of  long  ago 
When  Mary,  bending  low, 

Sang  Jesu's  lullaby. 

II. 

SLEEP,  little  sunny  head ! 
The  morning  hours  have  sped ; 

The  noonday  sun  climbs  high. 
The  Summer  breezes  sweet 
Winnow  the  waving  wheat, 

A  murmuring  lullaby. 

Sleep,  little  cradled  head  ! 
Sleep  in  thy  wee  white  bed 

While  mother  watches  nigh. 
The  rustling  Summer  rain 
Whispers  a  soft  refrain, 

A  soothing  lullaby. 

Sleep  !     Wake  and  sleep  again  ! 
No  longer  croons  the  rain  ; 

The  sun  drops  down  the  sky. 
Sleep,  sleep,  and  sleeping  hear 
The  angels  fluting  near  — 

Celestial  lullaby. 


CRADLE  SONGS.  263 

Sleep,  nested  like  a  dove, 
Babe  on  the  breast  of  love ! 

The  mild  moon  rideth  high  ; 
The  whole  world  sleeps  but  one 
Whose  watch  is  never  done, 
Whose  waking  heart  sings  on 

Love's  endless  lullaby. 


A  HARVEST  HYMN. 

WRITTEN  FOR  THE  AMESBURY  AND  SALISBURY 
AGRICULTURAL  EXHIBITION,   SEPT.  17,  1860. 

HAPPY  day  returned  once  more 

With  golden  plenty  still  replete ; 
As  though  she  never  gave  before 

Earth  pours  her  treasures  at  our  feet. 

And  ne'er  did  ruddier  fruit  fulfil 

The  rosy  prophecies  of  May ; 
Ne'er  did  the  rugged  lands  we  till 

Yield  sweeter  corn  or  flowers  more  gay. 

Not  one  among  the  many  here 

Who  prune  the  tree  or  plough  the  soil, 

But  has  some  share  in  Nature's  cheer, 
Some  liberal  recompense  for  toil. 

Yet  none  his  choicest  stores  may  boast 
Of  flowers  or  fruit  or  garnered  grain, 

For  labor  of  his  hands  were  lost 

Unblest  by  heaven's  refreshing  rain. 
264 


A  HARVEST  HYMN.  265 

Oh  thanks  to  God  whose  love  abides 
And  scatters  bounties  everywhere ; 

Who  in  the  heart  of  Nature  hides 
The  germ  of  His  unfailing  care  ! 

More  rich  than  Autumn's  robe  of  leaves 
Should  be  the  garments  of  our  praise, 

And  ampler  than  her  ample  sheaves 
The  charities  that  crown  our  days. 

More  fragrant  than  the  meadow's  breath 
The  incense  of  our  souls  should  rise 

From  life's  rude  altars  wreathed  by  Faith 
With  borrowed  bloom  from  Paradise. 

Oh,  clearly  then  could  we  behold 

In  flowers  that  fade  and  fruits  that  fall 

Sweet  hints  which  earthly  gifts  infold 
Of  treasure  stored  in  Heaven  for  all. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

1865. 

"D  EST,  rest  for  him  whose  noble  work  is  done  ; 
•"•      For  him  who  led  us  gently  unaware 
Till  we  were  readier  to  do  and  dare 
For  Freedom,  and  her  hundred  fields  were  won. 

His  march  is  ended  where  his  march  began : 
More  sweet  his  sleep  for  toil  and  sacrifice 
And  that  rare  wisdom  whose  beginning  lies 

In  fear  of  God  and  charity  for  man : 

And  sweetest  for  the  tender  faith  that  grew 

More  strong  in  trial,  and  through  doubt  more 

clear, 
Seeing  in  clouds  and  darkness  One  appear 

In  whose  dread  name  the  Nation's  sword  he  drew. 

Rest,  rest  for  him  ;  and  rest  for  us  to-day 

Whose  sorrow  shook  the  land  from  east  to  west 
When  slain  by  Treason,  on  the  Nation's  breast 

Her  martyr  breathed  his  steadfast  soul  away. 
266 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  267 

0  fervent  heart !  0  cool  and  patient  head ! 

0  shoulders  broad  to  bear  all  others'  blame ! 

Mercy  disguised  herself  beneath  his  name, 
And  Justice  through  his  lips  like  Pity  plead. 

His  truth  could  snare  the  wiliest  of  the  earth ; 

His  wit  outweigh  the  ponderous  debate  ; 

By  sneers  unvexed,  in  triumph  unelate, 
He  stood  our  chief  in  place,  our  chief  in  worth. 

Behold,  0  kingdoms  of  the  world,  behold, 
O  mighty  powers  beyond  the  swelling  wave, 
How  fast  as  rain  on  his  untitled  grave 

The  tears  of  millions  mingle  with  the  mould  ! 

Such  love  a  prince  might  crave,  such  homage  seek ; 
The  people's  love  that  clothed  him  like  a  king, 
The  grateful  trust  those  hands  were  swift  to  bring 

Whose  broken  fetters  of  deliverance  speak. 

Four  years  ago  unknown  —  to-day  how  dear  ! 
Four  years  that  tried  him  with  a  century's  strain, 
While  Treason  led  his  wretched  hosts  in  vain 

And  turned  Assassin  when  his  doom  was  near. 

Four  little  years  whose  space  a  thought  may  span  ; 
A  niche  in  Time's  vast  hall  where  he  doth  stand, 
To  win  applause  in  every  age  and  land, 

"  The  noblest  work  of  God  —  an  HONEST  MAX." 


WOMAN". 

1862. 

A  S  though  no  shade  of  human  wrong  fell  darkly 
**•     on  their  beauty, 
And  all  men  walked  in  brotherhood  the  shining 

ways  of  duty, 
The  blessed  summer  days  glide  by  in  calm  and 

sweet  succession ; 
God   writes   on   Nature's    palace-walls    no   curse 

against  oppression. 

The  strong  man  arms  him  for  the  fight ;  he  hears 

the  bugle  calling ; 
And  while  between  the  patriot-shouts  her  tears 

have  time  for  falling, 
Pale  woman  plies  the  threaded  steel  nor  shapes 

her  lips  to  singing, 
But  still  with  every  stitch  she  draws  the  pearls  of 

prayer  is  stringing. 

She  thinks  of  those  whose  wounds  are  fresh ;  of 

those  in  death-sleep  lying, 
Whose  brows  of  youth  and  manhood  won  their 

brightest  crowns  in  dying; 
268 


WOMAN.  269 

She  thinks  of  others  brave  and  true  hid  in  the 

smoke  of  battle, 
Where   bayonets    gleam    and    cannon    roar   and 

bullets  hiss  and  rattle. 


She  shudders  while  the  words  of  fate  along  the 
wires  are  chasing, 

Or  trembling  waits  the  hurried  line  some  comrade 
may  be  tracing; 

Her  heart  grows  faint ;  she  lifts  her  hands  in  an- 
guished imploration : 

"  God  save  my  soldier  ! "  first  she  prays,  and  then, 
"  God  save  the  nation  ! " 


And  when  she  moans,  "  The  very  thought  of  loss 

doth  overcome  me  ! " 
Crying,  "  If  it  be  possible,  oh  let  this  cup  pass 

from  me ! " 
God  chides  her  not  if,  choked  with  sobs,  she  adds 

to  her  petition 
But  brokenly  Christ's  after-words  of  meekness  and 

submission. 


He  saw  her  pale  with  victory  in  the  dark  hour  of 

trial, 
When    Self   lay   slain,  and    sorrowing   Love  was 

fettered  with  denial ; 


270  WOMAN. 

And  the  Divine  One  who  alone  can  clearly  read 

the  human, 

Traces  the  Hero's  autograph  though  tear-blots  of 
'  the  Woman. 


SONNETS. 


INSCEIBED 

TO    J.    W.    AND    C.    H. 
I. 

O  HUT  in  by  clustering  roofs  and  clustering  trees, 

^     Though  not  far  off  our  blue  bright  river  pours 

Its  full  swift  volume  'twixt  the  gracious  shores, 

How  do  I  long  on  golden  days  like  these 

For  the  wide  vision  of  the  crested  seas 

Where  the  fleet  swallow  circles,  dips,  and  soars ; 

Where  flash  the    gull's  white  wings,  the  fisher's 

oars, 

And  sails  that  shift  and  darken  in  the  breeze ! 
Where  the  white  surf  along  the  glistening  beach, 
And  on  the  black  rocks  streaming  from  the  spray, 
Tosses  incessant  far  as  eye  can  reach, 
And  ceaseless  murmurs  most  melodious  pour, 
Swelling  anon,  anon  to  die  away, 
While  the  sweet  pines  make  answer  evermore. 

*       II. 

THERE  stands  your  cottage,  peeping  from  the  wood 
And  facing  all  the  splendors  of  the  sea, 
On  that  dear  spot  where  I  to-day  would  be  ; 
Above,  below,  azure  of  sky  and  flood ; 

273 


274  INSCRIBED    TO  J.    W.  AND  C.  H. 

Boundless  seclusion,  boundless  solitude ; 

And  in  the  midst  what  social  feast  for  me 

To  choice  of  speech  or  silence  bidden  free, 

While  winds  and  waves  rock  every  varying  mood ! 

Through  doors  and  windows  wide,  through  all  the 

house, 

What  breeze-blown  odors  sweep  of  spice  and  balm, 
Hemlock  and  pine,  cedar  and  wilding  rose, 
And  miles  away  the  scent  of  meadow  mows ! 
Exhaustless  sweetness ;  inexpressible  calm  ; 
The  lapsing  water  murmuring,  Repose ! 


A  WOODLAND  HOUK. 

*  I  ""HE  stillness  of  the  year  in  sweet  decline ! 
•*-     (Precious  of  all  things  silence  in  its  turn  !) 
7T  is  like  the  loving  rest  for  which  we  yearn 
When  summer  hopes  no  longer  bloom  and  shine. 
In  the  soft  shadow  of  this  changeless  pine 
The  maple  boughs  have  almost  ceased  to  burn. 
How  brown  the  brake !  yet  this  so  delicate  fern 
Is  at  its  greenest.     Feathery  fair  and  fine 
It  waves  and  floats  these  mossy  trunks  between  — 
These  trunks  that  veil  the  axeman's  cruel  scars ; 
(There  are  some  lives  that  no  misfortune  mars ! ) 
Sweet  day  !    Against  yon  background  dusky  green 
That  slender  birch  in  the  fair  distance  seen 
Shows  like  a  twinkling  cloud  of  yellow  stars. 

275 


THE  GOLDEN  WEDDING. 

T  OINED  each  to  each  for  better  or  for  worse, 
J       How  have  their  fifty  years  of  wedlock  fled ; 
Time's  shadows  turned  to  silver  on  each  head 
That  now  we  crown  with  laurel-wreath  of  verse  ! 
Not   for   good   deeds   that   loud    tongues    might 

rehearse 

And  trumpet  east  and  west  for  men's  acclaim  — 
Those  deeds  of  love  too  numberless  to  name 
That  all  these  years  in  silentness  immerse ; 
Nay,  not  for  anything  possessed  or  done 
We  crown  them  with  the  honor  doubly  due, 
But  in  our  grateful  joy,  because  the  Hand 
Which  wrought  the  mystery  of  twain  made  one, 
Upon  this  Golden  Feast  shows  forth  anew 
How  fair  that  state  may  be,  in  Eden  planned. 
276 


"SAVE  THAT  THEKE  MAY  BE  ONE 
LOYE-GARNEKING  BBEAST." 

AYE   that   there  may  be  one   love- garnering 

breast 

Will  hold  us  unforgotten  when  we  die, 
From  all  the  paths  that  most  familiar  lie 
We- shall  be  missed  but  few  brief  days  at  best. 
Noteless  as  noiseless  pass  we  to  our  rest ; 
Slip  from  the  ear  and  tongue  as  from  the  eye. 
Earth  knows  no  break,  no  change  to  signify 
Absence  or  loss ;  and  Time  and  Nature,  lest 
In  our  behalf  remonstrant  they  appear, 
Make  stealthy  haste  to  blur  and  cover  o'er 
The  stone's  laborious  lettering  before 
The  yielding  mound  that  settles  year  by  year 
Is  levelled,  and  the  place  —  our  last  place  here  — 
That  knew  us  once  knows  us  indeed  no  more. 

277 


PROPHECY. 

'~PHE  glittering  darkness  of  the  perfect  night 
-*-       An  hour  before  the  break  of  perfect  morn, 
When  from  her  slowly-lessening,  beauteous  horn 
The  brilliant  moon  pours  forth  a  splendid  light: 
So  glows  the  radiance  of  inspired  sight, 
Steadfast,  serene,  by  weariness  unworn 
And  clear  of  every  human  doubt  forlorn, 
Keeping  Faith's  vigil  on  imperial  height  — 
While  sleeps  the  world  below,  unconscious,  prone, 
Drunken  with  things  of  self  and  slothful  time  — 
Until  Fulfilment's  flood,  like  morning's  prime, 
Through  wondrous  gates  of  Promise  widely  thrown 
Rolls  in  majestical  from  zone  to  zone 
And  merges  Prophecy  in  Light  sublime. 
278 


"HE   OPENED  NOT  HIS  MOUTH." 

ACH  counts  his  lot  most  grievous  ;  his  distress 

Sorer  than  other's ;  each  is  prone  to  harp 
Upon  his  many  trials  (though  he  carp 
At  his  poor  neighbor's  fretting  none  the  less) ; 
For  all  his  wrongs  there  seemeth  small  redress ; 
No  other's  ills  were  ever  quite  so  sharp ; 
Misfortunes  all  his  plans  do  thwart  and  warp ; 
No  loss  his  loss  can  match  ;  no  sorrows  press 
Like  his  !     Ah  !  eighteen  hundred  years  ago 
The  pangs  and  penalties  of  all  mankind 
Through  all  the  groaning  centuries  behind 
And  all  the  wrestling  centuries  to  come 
One  Man  endured,  bound  thrice  ten  years  with  woe, 
Yet  from  the  Manger  to  the  Cross  was  dumb ! 

279 


PA  in   III. 


JEANNETTE  FRANCES 

AND 

CHARLES  EMERSON. 


A  LITTLE   LESSON. 

LOOK  up,  dear  child,  to  the  happy  stars 
That  glitter  in  heavenly  spaces  ; 
No  discord  their  lovely  order  mars, 

None  covet  their  neighbors'  places ; 
Yet  some  flash  out  on  the  wide,  dark  night, 
And  some  just  shimmer  with  faint,  sweet  light. 

It  matters  little  so  each  but  shine 
With  all  the  strength  it  can  gather  ; 

The  gleam  of  the  least  is  a  gift  divine, 
Not  mighty  but  precious  rather ; 

No  star  its  fellow-stars  envies  or  shames, 

And  the  dear  Lord  calleth  them  all  by  their  names. 

283 


FOUR. 


in    one    home    and    each    its    chiefest 
blessing, 
Each    the    darling    centre    of    fondness    and 

delight  ; 

Four  in  one  heart  and  each  the  whole  possessing  ; 
Mystery  of  love,  love  only  reads  aright  ! 

Each  little  head  enhaloed  with  affection  ; 

Each  little  face  the  sweetest  when  it  smiles  ; 
Each  claiming  first  and  tenderest  protection  ; 

Each  as  the  others  comforts  and  beguiles. 

Grouped   round   his    knees    or   to   his    shoulders 

clinging, 

Nestling  in  his  arms  or  climbing  up  his  chair, 
Brimming  o'er  with  laughter,   dancing,  leaping, 

singing, 

Thus  the  happy  father  names  his  darlings  fair  : 
284 


FOUR.  285 

Sallie  is  "  my  daughter  "  (my  boundless  pride  and 

pleasure)  ; 
Kittie   is   "my  child"    (my  offspring  and  my 

crown) ; 

Louie  is  "my  girl"  (my  sweetest  one,  my  treasure) ; 
Ethel  is  "my  baby"  (the  love  that  love  weighs 
down). 

Four  in  one  home  and  each  its  chiefest  blessing ; 

Each  the  precious  centre  of  the  household  sphere ; 
Four  in  one  heart  and  each  the  whole  possessing ; 

Mystery  of  love  that  love  alone  makes  clear  ! 


LOVE  FOR  LOVE. 

the  old  moon  will  rise  not  yet ; 
}T  is  a  weary,  weary  old  moon 
And  late,  late  up  ;  but  we  will  not  fret, 
The  new  moon  will  shine  for  us  soon. 

And  "where  is  the  new  moon,"  pet  ? 

"  And  where  does  the  old  moon  go  ?  " 
They  never  are  parted,  they  never  met, 

But  each  from  the  other  they  grow. 

In  her  bosom  the  old  moon  yet 

The  new  moon  shelters  and  warms, 

And  the  fair  young  moon  —  she  will  not  forget 
But  rise  with  the  old  in  her  arms  ! 

286 


THE   FAIKY'S   DILEMMA. 

LMOST  time  for  the  ball  of  the  last  summer 

night, 

Said  a  fairy,  crimping  her  hair, 
And  my  elfin  wardrobe  is  in  such  a  plight 
I  really  have  nothing  to  wear ; 
I  really  am  quite  in  despair ! 

My  buttercup  satin  is  far  from  new 

And  I  do  not  like  the  tint ; 
I  have  worn  it  twice  already,  too, 

And  to  wear  it  again  would  hint 

That  I  must  needs  pinch  and  stint. 

I  wish  that  my  wind-flower  dress  were  fresh; 
How  pretty  that  used  to  be ! 

So  dainty  a  color ;  so  dainty  a  mesh  ; 
And  vastly  well  suited  to  me, 
With  pearls  from  the  spray  of  the  sea ! 

My  brier-rose  silk  is  slightly  defaced 

And  I  could  not  match  it  at  all, 
For  the  season  is  past ;  it  needs  a  new  waist ; 

I  might  wear  my  gossamer  shawl, 

The  weather  is  so  like  the  fall. 

287 


288  THE  FAIRY'S  DILEMMA. 

And  this  reminds  me  I  surely  must  get 

A  new  fringed  gentian  this  year. 
And  a  hoar-frost  point  —  so  costly  !     Yet 

I  really  must  have  it,  't  is  clear ; 

Yes,  let  it  be  never  so  dear ! 

Oh  there  is  my  water-lily  gown 

Imported  from  Slumber  Bay, 
With  the  golden  tassels  all  up  and  down ; 

But  that  will  be  soon  pass6e  ; 

I  think  I  will  lay  it  away. 

My  violet  —  violet 's  quite  gone  out ; 

It  will  rage  I  Ve  no  doubt  next  year. 
Oh  what  shall  I  get !  and  now  that  the  drought 

Has  made  fairy  fabrics  so  dear ! 

Well,  I  must  not  dawdle  here. 

My  thistle-down  phaeton  stands  at  the  gate 

And  I  must  go  out  for  a  drive ; 
I  would  go  to  shop  if  it  were  not  late ; 

Bless  me  !  't  is  almost  five 

By  the  four-o'clock,  as  I  'm  alive  ! 

I  have  it  —  I  have  it !  regardless  of  cost 

I  will  send  to  the  Silver  Cascade 
For  a  gown  of  that  rainbow  —  pure  sun-spinning, 
crossed 

With  the  choicest  colors  made, 

And  warranted  never  to  fade ! 


THE  FAIRY'S   DILEMMA.  289 

I  will  fringe   it  with  mist !     What  an  exquisite 

dress ! 
Most  magical  thing  in  air ! 

And  here  comes  the  Humming  Bird  Fairy  Express  ; 
I  will  hail  it  and  speak  it  fair, 
For  I  must  have  something  to  wear. 


THE   STUFFED  BIRD. 


through  the  window  you  wish  it  would  fly 
And  then  come  back  to  you  by  and  by  ; 
Ruffle  its  feathers  and  flutter  its  wings, 
And  sing  such  a  song  as  the  bobolink  sings  ? 
Its  plumage  is  splendid,  and  yet  you  are  tired 
Of  the  treasure  at  first  so  greatly  admired, 
Perched  motionless,  though  with  a  semblance  of 

flight, 
On  the  self-same  twig  from  morning  till  night  ? 

And  birds  are  so  restloss,  so  eager,  so  wise, 
So  rapid  the  glance  of  their  bright  little  eyes  ! 
How  they  tremble,  and  quiver,  and  flutter,   and 

dart, 

As  if  they  were  nothing  but  wings  and  a  heart  ! 
Why,  verily,  if  it  were  left  me  to  choose, 
This  tropical  beauty  I  'd  willingly  lose 
If  suddenly,  swiftly,  one  rapturous  thrill 
This  bright  little  throat  with  a  song-burst  would 

fill, 

290 


THE  STUFFED  BIRD.  291 

And  these  glad  wings  all  quickened  and  eager  for 

flight 
Would  flash  through  the  window  and  soar  out  of 

sight. 

I  think  not  a  sigh  from  my  dearie  or  me 
Would  wish  back  the  captive  that  life  had  set  free. 

'T  is  the  absence  of  life  where  life  has  once  stirred 
That  makes  this  poor  bird  so  unlike  a  bird 
That  even  its  splendor,  a  weariness  grown, 
Enchants  us  no  longer  with  charms  of  its  own. 
So  lifeless  it  is  that  one  must  needs  strive 
To  so  much  as  believe  it  was  ever  alive. 

Ah,  see  what  a  contrast !  —  look,  dearie,  and  see 
That  little  brown  bird  in  the  evergreen  tree, 
With  no  beauty  to  boast  of,  and  one  little  note 
Like  a  musical  throb  in  its  live  little  throat ! 
Incessant  it  flits  through  the  branches,  and  now 
Darts  outward  and  up  to  the  loftiest  bough 
In  the  joy  of  mere  being  to  carol  and  swing ! 
Why,  that  is  a  creature,  but  this  is  a  thing  ! 


THE  BABY  I  LOVE. 


HP  HIS  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 
•*•    The  baby  that  cannot  talk ; 

The  baby  that  cannot  walk ; 
The  baby  that  just  begins  to  creep ; 
The  baby  that 's  cuddled  and  rocked  to  sleep ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

The  baby  that  ?s  never  cross ; 

The  baby  papa  can  toss  ; 
The  baby  that  crows  when  held  aloft ; 
The  baby  that 's  rosy  and  round  and  soft ! 

Oh,  this  is  .the  baby  I  love  ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

The  baby  that  laughs  when  I  peep 

To  see  is  it  still  asleep ; 
The  baby  that  coos  and  frowns  and  blinks 
When  left  alone  —  as  it  sometimes  thinks  ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 
292 


THE  BABY  I  LOVE.  293 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  lies  on  my  knee 

And  dimples  and  smiles  at  me 
While  I  strip  it,  and  bathe  it,  and  kiss  it  —  oh  !  — 
Till  with  bathing  and  kissing  't  is  all  aglow ; 

Yes,  this  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  all  freshly  dressed ; 

That  waking  is  never  at  rest ; 
That  plucks  at  my  collar  and  pulls  my  hair 
Till  I  look  like  a  witch,  but  I  do  not  care ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  understands ; 

And  dances  with  feet  and  hands 
And  a  sweet  little  whinnying  eager  cry 
For  the  nice  warm  breakfast  that  waits  it  close  by  ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

The  baby  that  tries  to  talk ; 

The  baby  that  longs  to  walk ; 
And  oh !  its  mamma  will  wake  some  day 
To  find  that  her  baby  has  —  run  away  ! 

My  baby  —  the  baby  I  love  ! 


HER  OWN  LITTLE  ROOM. 


T  T  ERE  is  my  own  little  room  ; 
•*•         Fair  as  a  lily  in  bloom  — 

That  is  what  mother  dear  said. 
Just  see  how  lovely  it  looks  ! 
Here  are  my  desk  and  books, 

Here  is  my  own  little  bed. 

This  is  my  sewing-chair ; 
That  is  my  work-box  there, 

Everything  I  shall  use ; 
Thimble  and  scissors  and  thread, 
Stocking-ball  —  darning  I  dread! 

Emery,  needles  to  choose. 

Soon  as  I  learned  to  sew, 
Mend  my  own  linen,  you  know, 

Take  all  the  care  for  my  own, 
Dusting  and  making  my  bed, 
Mother  always  has  said, 

"  Sister  shall  room  all  alone." 
294 


HER   OWN  LITTLE  ROOM.  295 

Not  that  the  children  may 
Not  be  allowed  here  to  play 

Sometimes  when  they  are  good ; 
But  when  I  'm  reading,  you  know, 
Komping  and  shouting  they  go ; 

Then  I  want  solitude. 


Here  I  shall  often  sit, 
(Mother  can  read  and  knit !) 

Besting  my  book  on  this  shelf. 
Here  my  birdie  will  swing 
Eight  overhead,  the  dear  thing, 

Singing  away  to  himself. 

Pictures  ?     O  yes,  I  forget ! 
This  is  "S.  Margaret,"  — 

None  of  them  costly,  but  dear  - 
This  is  "  Aurora  "  and  this  — 
This  is  "The  Playmate's  Kiss," 

And  "  Jesus  and  Mary  "  here. 

Here  in  the  winter  time 
I  shall  have  ivies  to  climb ; 

And  my  Hermosa  rose, 
All  through  the  winter  in  bloom, 
How  it  will  brighten  my  room ! 

I  shall  forget  that  it  snows. 


296  HER    OWN  LITTLE  ROOM. 

This  pretty  student-lamp  's  mine  ; 
I  may  sit  up  until  nine, 

But  I  shall  join  mother  dear 
Till  I  come  up  for  the  night, 
So  I  my  candle  shall  light 

Unless  she  sits  with  me  here. 

Sometimes  my  friends  will  come  in  ; 
Very  soon  I  shall  begin 

Asking  them  duly  to  come. 
Here  I  mean  to  "  receive  ; " 
Oh,  you  may  laugh,  but  believe  ! 

For  this  is  my  home  in  my  home  ! 


"VIVE   LA   KEINE." 

T  T  7ITH  the  robin  for  poet-laureate, 

*  *      And  the  ma}7flowers  for  her  train, 
And  her  innocence  for  her  robe  of  state, 
The  baby  began  her  reign. 

The  pretty  head  with  its  curly  crown 
Knows  nothing  of  royal  woes  ; 

For  love  is  softer  than  eider-down, 
And  yieldeth  her  sweet  repose. 

There  are  loyal  and  loving  hearts  alone 

In  the  wee  one's  fair  domain  ; 
And  they  make  the  robin's  song  their  own, 

Tor  he  singeth,  "  Vive  la  Keine  !  " 

297 


THE  FAIRY  TAPER. 


A  BOVE  me  all  the  stars  of  night 
'*•*'  Thick  clustering  make  the  darkness  bright ; 
And  in  the  darkling  grass  below 
Shines  out  with  swift,  responsive  glow 
A  tiny,  steadfast,  lucid  ray, 
Anon  as  swiftly  dies  away. 
Again  it  comes  ;  again  it  goes ; 
And  still  with  equal  lustre  glows. 
Now  I  bethink  me  't  is  the  light 
Of  some  sweet  fairy  of  the  night ; 
A  taper-flame  of  emerald  hue 
Put  out  by  silver  showers  of  dew ! 
But  oh  the  invisible  hands  that  bear 
The  fairy  candlestick  in  air,  — 
To  see  them  strike  the  fairy  light 
And  lift  the  flame  in  mortal  sight, 
To  guide  her  hastening  lover  true 
The  forest  of  the  grasses  through ! 

Fall  faster  yet  an  fall  you  must, 
Small  dew  that  lays  the  fairy  dust ! 
Oft  as  you  quench  her  lovely  light 
This  little  lady  of  the  night 
298 


THE  FAIRY   TAPER.  299 

Will  still  renew  the  gem-like  flame 
That  hour  by  hour  will  burn  the  same ; 
While  lover  fond  and  lady  true 
Defy  the  darkness  and  the  dew ! 

"  Who  told  you  ?  "  (whispered  in  ray  ear.) 
A  little  Glow-worm  told  me,  dear ! 


KNITTING  SONG. 

O  TITCH  by  stitch  and  row  on  row, 

v-^    This  is  the  way  the  stocking  must  grow. 

Clickety,  clickety,  day  by  day 

The  slender,  glittering  needles  say. 

Hnsh-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings  ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Pearl  and  plain  and  plain  and  pearl, 
Be  it  for  boy  or  be  it  for  girl ; 
Two  and  two  is  a  neat  device  ; 
Learn  to  shift  the  thread  in  a  trice. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings  ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Inch  by  inch  the  long  leg  grows, 
Straight  and  narrow  for  fitting  close  ; 
A  very  poor  leg,  is  the  saying  well  known, 
That  cannot  shape  a  sock  of  its  own. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 
300 


KNITTING  SONG.  301 

Count  the  stitches  and  halve  them  now, 
And  one  half  set  in  a  single  row, 
And  back  and  forth  outside  and  in 
Knit  the  heel  on  the  single  pin. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings  ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Knit  it  long  and  narrow  midway 
To  round  it ;  and  bind  it  off,  as  we  say ; 
Take  up  the  loops  on  either  side 
And  add  a  few  more  to  make  it  wide. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Now  each  side  narrow  or  slip  and  bind, 
To  shape  the  instep,  as  you  will  find ; 
Then  knit  straight  on  till  you  near  the  toe ; 
This  is  the  way  the  foot  must  grow. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Then  narrow  once  more  and  narrow  away, 

Toeing  it  off,  as  knitters  say. 

There  is  a  stocking  fit  for  an  heir  ! 

Now  knit  the  mate  for  he  must  have  a  pair ! 
Hush-a-bye,  Baby  ;  when  you  are  grown 
Your  feet  may  be  worthy  to  climb  to  a  throne  ! 


THE  KING'S   SUEVEYOE. 

2,  little  one,  this  is  "our  time,"  you  know ; 
Too  late  to  read  and  too  late  to  sew, 
Yet  too  early  the  evening  lamp  to  light,  — 
It  is  not  day  and  it  is  not  night. 

The  fresh  stick  crackles  and  blazes  and  sings, 
And  the  shadows  wave  round  us  like  dusky  wings  j 
On  the  ivory  key-board  flame-fingers  play,  — 
It  is  not  night  and  it  is  not  day. 

While  you  perch  on  my  knee  in  the  twilight  time, 
I  tell  you  the  tale  —  I  chant  you  the  rhyme  : 
Now  here  is  a  story  you  have  not  heard,  — 
It  is  true ;  I  give  it  you  word  for  word. 

Once  on  a  time  in  this  quaint  old  town 
Whose  brown  roofs  are  slow  to  tumble  down, 
While  turrets  and  spires  are  slower  yet 
To  fill  their  places  and  banish  regret,  — 

Once  on  a  time  in  the  neighborhood  fair 
Of  the  stateliest  mansion  in  Haymarket  Square, 
On  the  rocks  where  a  church  has  since  been  reared, 
The  shanty  of  Shepherd  Ham  appeared. 
302 


THE  KING'S  SURVEYOR.  303 

*• 

The  King's  Surveyor  once  was  he  ; 

In  the  forest  on  many  a  noble  tree, 

Ere  the  Ked  Coats  the  conquering  Colonists  met, 

The  royal  arrow  he  loftily  set. 

But  when  he  could  serve  his  King  no  more, 
And  his  silver  lace  was  a  thing  of  yore, 
He  opened  a  stable  —  the  proud  old  Tory  — 
And  fed  his  pride  on  his  former  glory. 

Now  close  was  he  as  the  bark  to  the  tree, 
And  the  older  he  grew  the  worse  grew  he ; 
The  rickety  coach  and  the  unshod  brute 
Soon  brought  his  stalls  into  disrepute. 

One  by  one  and  day  by  day 

Shepherd's  patrons  fell  away  ; 

But  his  lank-ribbed  horses,  as  odd  as  himself, 

He  would  not  part  with  for  love  or  pelf. 

A  queer  old  man  he  was  indeed  ! 
In  the  Portsmouth  "  Rambles  "  you  may  read 
How  he  dwelt  for  years  in  his  hut  alone, 
Old  saddles  and  trappings  round  him  strewn ; 

Old  sleighs,  old  coaches,  old  chaises  beside, 
Wherein  even  ghosts  would  not  risk  them  to  ride ; 
And  around  his  shanty  far  and  near 
Wheels  and  axles  and  useless  gear. 


304.  THE  KING'S  SURVEYOR. 

William  his  name  ;  yet  low  and  high 
Called  him  "  Shepherd,"  —  I  know  not  why, 
Unless  it  may  be  he  was  wont  to  keep 
His  flock  of  horses  as  shepherds  their  sheep. 

Plis  long  beard  sweeping  the  faded  vest 
Carelessly  buttoned  across  his  breast, 
In  his  clumsy  boots  and  corduroys, 
Teased  and  courted  by  all  the  boys, 

The  old  man  went  on  his  daily  rounds, 

Rich  in  importance  though  poor  in  pounds, 

Feeling  old  honors  about  him  cling, 

And  praying  persistently,  "  God  save  the  King  ! " 

Under  and  over  him  horse-skins  spread, 

The  old  man  slept  on  his  comfortless  bed, 

Unvexed  by  the  raid  of  rats  in  his  den 

So  his  worm-eaten  treasures  were  safe  from  men. 

The  moth  and  the  mouse  they  lacked  no  food, 
But  well-nigh  deserted  his  stables  stood, 
For  the  crib  was  empty,  the  rack  was  bare, 
And  the  beast  would  starve  that  waited  there. 

So  up  and  down,  up  and  down, 

Shepherd's  horses  roamed  the  town, 

From  morn  till  noon  and  from  noon  till  night, 

Pausing  wherever  they  found  a  bite. 


THE  KING'S  SURVEYOR.  305 

Yet  a  kindly  care  old  Shepherd  showed 
For  the  creatures  he  pastured  on  the  road  ; 
In  gathering  storms  he  sought  his  flock 
From  Frenchman's  Lane  to  Puddle  Dock. 

As  he  drove  his  shaggy  herd  before 

From  Wibird's  Hill  to  Christian  Shore, 

Merrily  would  the  town's  folk  say : 

"  The  careful  Shepherd  is  coming  this  way  ! " 

Now  the  boys  — well,  boys  will  be  boys,  you  know ; 
And  sixty  or  seventy  years  ago 
They  were  ripe  for  mischief  and  ready  for  play 
As  the  rogues  who  run  from  the  rod  to-day. 

And  if  one  of  those  lads,  overflowing  with  fun, 
In  Broad  Street,  or  Jaffrey,  or  Islington, 
Spied  one  of  those  horses  of  Shepherd  Ham, 
How  could  he  leave  him  to  browse  like  a  lamb ! 

Some  little  trick  with  the  burr-tangled  tail 
Switching  the  poor  beast's  flanks  like  a  flail ; 
No  evil  he  meant,  but  all  he  could  do 
He  could  not  help  playing  a  prank  or  two. 

One  morning,  while  slumber  seemed  yet  to  drown 
The  first  faint  hum  of  the  drowsy  town, 
And  Nature  herself  in  her  mist-spun  cap 
Indulged  in  an  innocent  morning  nap, 


306  THE  KING'S  SURVEYOR. 

Some  workmen,  beguiling  their  early  walk 
With  simple,  cheery,  jovial  talk, 
Went  up  Church  Hill  where  St.  John's  doth  stand 
Looking  out  o'er  the  water  and  in  o'er  the  land. 

They  had  wrought  on  the  belfry  long  days  before, 
And  were  come  to  take  up  their  toil  once  more, 
And  the  staging  whereby  they  reached  that  height 
They  lifted  at  morning  and  lowered  at  night. 

Midway  up  the  hillside  a  boisterous  shout 
From  the  trio  of  honest  throats  rang  out, 
For  lo !  the  staging  swung  high  in  air, 
And  — "What  in  the  world  is  that  up  there  !  " 

Surely  it  is  —  but  can  it  be  ?  — 
An  old  horse  gazing  out  to  sea ; 
With  sleepy  eyes  and  listless  ears, 
As  if  he  had  gazed  and  gazed  for  years  ! 

Did  he  follow  some  dim  receding  sail  ? 
It  is  not  recorded  in  the  tale ; 
But  I  '11  venture  to  add  the  workmen  swore 
No  horse  ever  stood  so  near  heaven  before. 

When  the  village  had  fairly  opened  its  eyes, 
Fancy  the  merriment  and  surprise 
That  followed  its  wake  as  the  story  flew  round 
How  the  ancient  horse  on  the  staging  was  found ! 


THE  KING'S  SURVEYOR.  307 

But  at  noon  when  the  urchins  broke  from  school, 
And  tossing  their  caps  snapped  their  fingers  at  rule, 
Of  all  the  bright  eyes  in  the  crowd  not  one 
Betrayed  the  author  of  last  night's  fun  ! 


"IF  YOU  WERE  A  BEE." 

T  E  you  were  a  bee,  if  you  were  a  bee, 
•^      What  flower  would  you  love  best  ? 
If  you  were  a  bird,  a  blithe  little  bird, 
Where  would  you  build  your  nest  ? 

The  heart  of  a  rose  and  the  hawthorn  close, 

Are  these  the  places  you  'd  seek  ? 
But  Mother's  warm  breast  is  Baby's  dear  nest, 

Baby's  sweet  rose  is  her  cheek. 

When  blossoms  turn  pale  and  honey-cups  fail 

And  nests  grow  cold  with  the  year, 
More  warm  grows  the  breast,  and  the  cheek  you 

have  prest 

Dearer  and  yet  more  dear. 
308 


THE  LITTLE  BEGGAE. 

A  LL  that  you  ask  is  one  kiss,  Petite  ; 
•^T     Just  one  wee  kiss,  and  no  more  ? 
Did  ever  a  beggar  half  so  sweet 

Stand  begging  at  any  door 

For  so  foolish  a  thing  before  ! 

Kiss  you  once  and  you  '11  go  away  ? 

But  I  know  better  than  this  ; 
If  I  kiss  you  once  you  are  sure  to  stay, 

And  there  the  mischief  is 

In  giving  you  one  wee  kiss. 

Once  in  my  arms  and  you  cannot  go, 
Sweet  beggar  turned  captive  sweet ! 

For  I  shall  kiss  you  and  kiss  you  so 
That  you  will  begin  to  entreat, 
'•  Please  put  me  down  on  my  feet !  " 

You  are  not  afraid  ?     Then  come,  my  Pet ! 
Away  with  my  book  and  my  pen  ! 

Here  goes  !  —  Enough  ?     Not  yet,  not  yet ! 
There  !  —  give  me  back  kisses  ten, 
And  then  —  come  a-begging  again  ! 

309 


WE  DO   NOT  KNOW. 

TPvEAR  child,  dear  child,  we  do  not  know 
••-^  Why  sorrows  come  and  pleasures  go, 
Why  oft  we  fail  when  most  we  try, 

But  God  knows  why 
And  we  shall  all  know  by  and  by. 

We  do  not  know,  we  cannot  tell, 
But  oh  the  Father  knoweth  well 
Why  one  is  rich  and  one  is  fair, 

One  sick  with  care, 
And  this  world's  poor  are  everywhere. 

We  walk  in  darkness  but  He  sees 
And  shows  us  gently  by  degrees 
And  step  by  step  the  hidden  way, 

If  we  but  pray, 
"  Lord,  make  me  follow  Thee  alway." 

We  must  be  patient  till  the  end 
And  leave  to  Him  the  way  we  wend ; 
For  never  here  our  eyes  can  see 

The  plan  that  He 
In  mercy  plans  for  you  and  me. 
310 


WE  DO  NOT  KNOW,  311 

Our  best  is  ill,  our  worst  perhaps 
His  pity  counts  a  lesser  lapse  ; 
But  every  sin  is  very  black 

And  turns  us  back 
Prom  duty's  straight  and  shining  track. 

Sweet  is  the  fear  that  will  not  dare 
Forget  His  law  or  spurn  His  care, 
And  sweeter  still  the  love  that  saith 

With  every  breath, 
"  Lord,  make  me  faithful  unto  death/5 


IN   THE   DAKK. 

T  KNOW  it  is  dark,  my  darling, 

And  fearful  the  darkness  seems, 
But  shut  your  eyes  !  in  a  moment 

The  night  will  be  bright  with  dreams ; 
Or  better,  you  '11  sleep  so  sound  all  night 
It  will  seem  but  a  moment  till  morning  light. 

There  is  only  one  kind  of  darkness 

That  need  to  trouble  us,  dear ; 
Only  the  night  of  temptation, 

And  then  we  must  all  of  us  fear, 
But  even  then  if  we  are  but  brave 
There  is  One  who  is  ever  at  hand  to  save. 

We  have  only  to  ask  Him  to  help  us, 
And  He  will  shield  us  from  harm ; 

Only  to  whisper,  "  Jesus  ;  " 
His  Name  is  a  holy  charm  ; 

"  Jesus,  save  me,"  we  need  but  say 

And  the  night  of  temptation  will  flee  away. 
312 


7.V   THE  DARK.  313 

"  How  can  He  be  always  near  us, 

Near  all  of  us,  everywhere  ?  " 
Ah,  that  is  bejTond  our  knowing, 

But  there  is  no  bound  to  His  care ; 
And  dear  as  the  whole  big  world  in  His  sight 
Is  the  little  child  He  bids  Good-night. 


TO  MY  GODSON,  C.  E.  H. 

(Sexagesima,  1886.) 

A    YEAR  ago  I  received  you,  dear  child, 
^^     From  the  waters  of  Baptism  ;  on  your  brow 
The  sign  of  the  Kingdom  undefiled,  — 
The  sign  that  the  angels  see  there  now. 

It  was  then  that  the  bond  between  us  was  made  — 
Godson  and  godmother,  you  and  I ; 

When  the  precious  burden  on  me  was  laid 
That  you  will  lift  from  me  by  and  by. 

Yes,  that  was  only  a  year  ago 

By  the  Church's  reckoning,  little  one  ; 

One  of  these  days  my  boy  will  know 

What  godmother  means  and  what  godson. 

I  almost  trembled  to  take  you  that  day, 

Half  lost  in  the  long,  fair  robes  that  you  wore ; 

How  tiny  you  looked,  and  how  helpless  you  lay, 
While  your  downy  head  in  my  palm  I  upbore. 
314 


TO   MY   GODSON,    C.  E.  H.  315 

But  already,  my  boy,  you  are  running  about 

On  those  adventurous  little  feet, 
Midst  the  circle  of  sisters  who  laugh  and  shout 

At  your  baby  frolics  and  lispings  sweet. 

The  mirth  that  is  masked  in  a  rueful  look 
How  swiftly  you  answer  with  gleeful  eyes  ! 

How  you  fling  down  the  bauble  and  seize  the  book, 
Discerning  without  discerning  the  prize  ! 

Yesterday's  favors  you  claim  to-day ; 

And  oh,  with  what  artless  stratagem, 
Eluding  all  tactics,  you  make  your  way, 

O'ermatching  the  wit  that  your  progress  would 
hem. 

But  already,  too,  you  are  learning,  I  know, 
The  tender  restraint,  the  loving  control 

Of  the  sweetest  home  in  the  world ;  and  oh, 
The  blessing  henceforward  to  body  and  soul ! 

My  dear  little  godson,  my  beautiful  boy, 
On  this,  the  day  of  your  mystical  birth, 

I  will  not  give  you  a  fragile  toy  — 
I  cannot  give  you  a  gift  of  worth. 

So  I  clasp  you  close  to  my  heart,  and  pray 
That  the  sign  the  angels  see  there  now, 

God's  priceless  gift  to  you,  day  by  day 

Brighter  and  brighter  may  burn  on  your  brow. 


316  TO  MY  GODSON,  C.  E.  H. 

Brighter  and  brighter,  as  year  by  year 
You  are  taught  to  follow  His  blessed  will, 

Kept  in  his  steadfast  love  and  fear, 
Fighting  and  overcoming  still. 

Brighter  and  brighter,  as  boyhood  speeds, 
And  youth  and  manhood  pass  away, 

And  the  shining  path  of  obedience  leads 
On  to  the  light  of  the  perfect  day. 


A  LITTLE   CHRISTMAS   SERMON. 

/CHILDREN  dear,  I  heard  ye  say  : 
^-^   "  Morrows,  haste  and  haste  away  ; 
Bring  the  merry  Christmas  Day  ! 

"  Blithest  Carol,  sweetest  Chime, 
Hearts  that  dance  to  peal  and  rhyme, 
Welcome  in  the  happy  time ! 

"  Starry  Tree,  shine  out  anew, 
Glittering  as  with  golden  dew, 
Gay  with  fruits  of  every  hue ! " 

This  is  what  ye  said,  I  trow : 
Little  children,  hearken  now 
Ere  ye  pluck  the  freighted  bough  ; 

Ponder  what  the  Carols  mean ; 
What  the  Chime  rung  out  between, 
What  the  laden  Evergreen. 

"  Glory  be  to  God  Most  High  ! » 
Sang  His  angels  in  the  sky 
When  the  Lord  to  men  drew  nigh. 

317 


318  A  LITTLE  CHRISTMAS  SERMON. 

"  Peace  on  earth  —  good  will  and  peace  ; 
Love  shall  reign,  and  wrong  shall  cease  ; 
He  is  born,  —  the  Prince  of  Peace  !  " 

Just  for  love  of  us  He  came, 
Took  His  sweetly  tender  Name  — 
Jesus !  stooped  to  our  shame. 

"  I  will  save  you,"  —  thus  He  said ; 
"  I  am  Life  ;  your  life  is  dead  j 
I  will  give  you  life  instead  !  " 

Little  children,  closest  pressed 
To  the  loving  Saviour's  breast, 
Surely  ye  must  love  Him  best ! 

This  is  love,  —  to  do  His  will ; 
Speaking  truth ;  forsaking  ill ; 
Bearing  and  forbearing  still ; 

Battling  selfishness  within 
(Where  He  only  sees  the  sin) 
Till  through  Him  at  last  ye  win  ; 

Sorrowing  over  evil  wrought  — 
Open  deed  or  secret  thought ; 
Straightway  doing  as  ye  ought ; 


A  LITTLE  CHRISTMAS  SEEM  ON.  319 

Blessing  all  for  His  dear  sake, 
As  His  blessing  ye  partake  ; 
Happier,  thus,  His  world  to  make. 

This  is  love  ;  a  service  light, 
Done  with  all  your  little  might  : 
None  shall  fail  to  do  it  right. 

Let  your  little  hearts  reply 
To  the  angels  in  the  sky  : 
"  Love  shall  reign  eternally  ! 

"  God  is  love  fore  verm  ore  ; 
Love  we  Him,  and  Him  adore 
In  the  Christ-Child  born  of  yore." 

Let  your  lives  ring  out  His  praise 
Like  a  chime  His  finger  sways  : 
Sweet  as  carols  be  your  days. 

Beautiful  with  holiness, 
Let  your  daily  deeds  confess 
In  whose  Name  ye  seek  to  bless. 

This  is  what  the  Carols  mean  ; 
What  the  Chime  rung  clear  between  ; 
What  the  bounteous  Evergreen. 


THE   HOLY   CHILD. 

A  KE  you  thinking,  dear  child, 

**     Of  Jesus  the  Lord  when  He  was  a  Child, 

And  blessed  Mary  the  Mother  mild 

With  heart  love-troubled  and  eyes  intent 
So  tenderly  watched  Him  as  He  went, 
Beyond  all  innocence  innocent, 
On  holy  and  unguessed  errands  bent  ? 

Are  you  dreaming,  dear  child, 

Of  the  heavenly  mien  of  that  Wonderful  Child  ; 

The  look  He  wore  when  He  spake  or  smiled ; 
The  healing  balm  of  His  touch  and  tear ; 
The  sweet  voice,  marvel  to  every  ear, 
That  drew  all  the  children  far  and  near 
(Because  it  was  Love's  and  love  is  dear)  ? 

Are  you  longing,  dear  child, 

To  be  like  the  Lord  when  He  was  a  Child  ? 

Remember  :  the  Christ-Boy  undefiled, 
So  meek  and  lowly,  so  reverent, 
Yet  filling  the  wise  with  wonderment, 
And  crowned  with  all  favor  as  He  went, 
Was,  first  and  last,  obedient. 
320 


11 


rriet   LicEwei 


K491 


Poems 


M191987 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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